


Making Peace With the Past

by ellebeedarling



Series: Things Unexpected [4]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellebeedarling/pseuds/ellebeedarling
Summary: The Reapers have arrived, just as Shepard warned, and he and the crew of the Normandy are in a race against time to end the threat once and for all. While Shepard fights to gather the resources needed to stop the Reapers, a ghost from the past threatens to destroy everything that he's worked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap! It's finally here! The sequel to [Things Unexpected](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783548/chapters/21974633)! I had already started this sequel long before I finished posting TU, but the story was not shaping up how I wanted it to. I started this over no less than five times! I hope the final product is something that you all will love and find was worth the wait!

John could remember his mother's yellow hair, the way it felt on his fingers or on his cheek as his head rested on her shoulder, the way it looked on the rare occasions when she was well enough to get out of bed – soft and smooth, with large golden curls that framed her oval face. There was a yellow dress too, and flowery perfume that she put on when she felt good. He remembered his dad coming home on those days and kissing her and then sending him and his baby brother, Robbie, to the playground to play. There was a neighbor – Mrs. Willoughby, perhaps – who made chocolate chip cookies for him and Robbie, and she gave them to them warm and gooey.

 

He rarely thought about his family and that time, mostly because he simply couldn't remember more than that. He was more familiar with the string of foster homes he'd been forced into after the deaths of his family. Even these he hadn't thought much about in years, except for a few little anecdotes he'd relayed to James on rare occasions so that the man would know a little something about his childhood, such as it was.

 

He couldn't help thinking about them now as he viewed the carnage from the cargo bay door of the  _ Normandy _ . For the first time in his life, he was glad his parents and brother had died so many years ago. No one should have to live to see this. The Reapers had come, just like he'd always known they would – though being right about this never felt like a victory. 

 

Vancouver was currently being razed to the ground. Shepard had grown up in Seattle, but he knew that cities all over the world were probably enduring the same treatment. How many people did he know personally that were now dead? How many of those had already been turned into husks by Reaper forces? Nausea coiled in his stomach. He couldn't imagine how it could get worse.

 

James came up beside him, and they took a moment to check each other for injuries. Shepard felt selfish as all hell for being glad that they'd both made it this far. So many – too many – more were already destined for bad news and heartbreak. The Reapers were here and the galaxy was being destroyed, and rules and regulations could go fuck themselves. Shepard laced his fingers with James', squeezing until both their knuckles were white as they watched Earth recede. During the weeks and months of his confinement, James had become his reason for existing. During the war to end all wars, James would be his reason for fighting, and Shepard didn't give a good god damn who knew it.

 

They watched in horror as the little boy who'd lived across the way from their own apartment climbed aboard a shuttle that was promptly shot down by a reaper. It was just the beginning, and they both knew it. Their eyes were glued to the scene, flaming pieces of the shuttle fluttering into the harbor. James slid an arm around John's waist. Shepard reciprocated, and the two of them stood that way, heads leaned together, hearts heavy, until the bay door started closing.

 

John glanced down at the dog tags in his hand now, thumb rubbing over the raised letters. LT. CMDR. SHEPARD, JONATHAN THOMAS; MILITARY DESIGNATION: INFILTRATOR – N7; DOB: 11APR2154. Everything the Alliance deemed worth knowing about his life reduced to three lines of text. Name, rank, date of birth. The tags gleamed at him from the palm of his hand, weighing only an ounce, but representing the weight of the galaxy. His eyes met James', and he could see the determination in the younger man reflected back at him. If anyone understood the burden he would have to bear from here on out, it was James. Shepard slipped the chain around his neck and pulled James close for a kiss, then nodded and turned toward the elevator.

 

**

 

“ You know this reminds me of when I was a kid,” John said, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the deck of the shuttle bay. After getting stonewalled by the Council and redirected to Palaven, Shepard had been in a mood. James had suggested they take it to the ring to work out some of the aggression. Now that they’d been going round and round for an hour or more, John was tired of this game - much more interested in another. 

 

“ How's that?” James asked, breath ragged, as he took another swing at his lover.

 

“ Damn junkies always thought that just because I was a kid they didn't have to pay for the shit I brought 'em. Imagine their surprise when a fourteen year old punk broke their nose.”

 

James huffed a laugh. “Guess they forked over the credits pretty quick after that.”

 

“ You can bet your sweet little ass they did.”

 

“ So how does this remind you of that?” The lieutenant asked with another breath of laughter.

 

“ Because you think you're going to whip my ass right now, and I think that's really cute.”

 

“ Cute, huh?”

 

“ Well, there's a lot about you that's cute, Jimmy, not the least of which is you thinking you can best me here. How many times am I going to have to mop the floor with your ass before you give it up?”

 

“ Maybe I just like seeing you in action. Ever thought about that?”

 

Shepard danced forward and landed a hit on James' jaw, earning him a curse from the younger man. John grinned. “I can think of better ways for us to blow off steam, Jimmy.”

 

“ Yeah?”

 

“ You can't?”

 

“ I might have a few ideas,” James confessed.

 

“ So what are we still doing down here?” Shepard grabbed the younger man and flipped him over his shoulder. James hit the ground with a thud and a groan, grabbing John's hand and yanking him down on top of him. The Commander released an undignified 'oof' and James took the opportunity presented by Shepard's momentary surprise to flip them over, pressing a searing kiss to John's lips. “Not here, Jimmy,” he breathed, wanting nothing more than to strip the man down and have his way with him. “Don't forget about that fucking reporter.”

 

“ Why the fuck did you let her on the ship in the first place?” James nearly whined, standing with a sigh and offering Shepard a hand up.

 

“ Because, we need her reporting to keep recruitment lines up,” he said.

 

“ Do you honestly think there's anyone not willing to step up to the plate now?”

 

“ I don't know, but it'll be good for troop morale, too. Reports of the  _ Normandy's _ successes will keep them going – fighting.”

 

“ Not the  _ Normandy _ , Johnny-boy. You. You're the one they want to see.”

 

Shepard snorted, waving a hand in dismissal, grabbing his discarded t-shirt from the procurement console to mop his face on their way to the elevator. The tip of his tongue came out to test the corner of his mouth and came away with the coppery tang of blood on it. “Damn, that was a good one,” he muttered.

 

James' eyes glowed at the compliment, and he leaned in to kiss the split at the corner of Shepard's mouth. There was already a purple-black bruise blossoming under the edges of his stubble. “Come on. Let's go put some medi-gel on it. Don't want to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

 

Shepard stopped at his terminal on the desk in their quarters, scanning his messages for anything urgent. James huffed in exasperation, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist from behind, lifting him off his feet and carrying him down to the bed on the lower level. 

 

“Can I help you?” Shepard asked, a hint of amusement in his voice as James set him back on the floor.

 

“ Yeah. You can get naked and let me do dirty things to you.” James gave him a shove, and Shepard landed on the bed with a bounce, rolling onto his back and laughing up at his lover.

 

“ Commander,” Joker's voice interrupted just as James hooked his fingers into Shepard's waistband.

 

“ Joker,” Shepard said tiredly, “this had better be really fucking important.”

 

“ Admiral Hackett is on vid comm.”

 

“ Of course he is. He can probably sense when I'm about to get laid, or something.”

 

“ Didn't need to hear that, Commander,” Joker told him.

 

“ Oh, like you didn't already know,” Shepard scoffed. “I'll be down in a minute.”

 

“ Make sure you put some clothes on first.”

 

“ Don't you have a ship to fly?”

 

“ Yeah, yeah,” Joker grumbled.

 

“ Duty calls, hey, Johnny-boy?”

 

“ Looks like.” Shepard ran a finger down James' jaw line and across his lips, then sighed. “Love you, Jimmy.”

 

“ Love you, Loco. Get out of here. The sooner you leave, the sooner you can come back.”

 

“ Hopefully.”

 

But John didn't come back that night. James wandered into the mess hall the next morning to see the man leaning against the counter half asleep. A mug of coffee sat in front of him unattended as Shepard stared off into space, a datapad clutched in one hand. 

 

James walked up to him with a frown. “What happened to you last night?”

 

“ Hackett.” Shepard dug his fists into his eyes and yawned. “Just tons of reports and intel to go over. I thought about coming back up, but didn't want to keep you awake. I sat in starboard observation most of the night, guzzling coffee, and trying to keep my damned eyes open.”

 

“ When are you planning on sleeping? We'll be at Palaven in just a few hours.”

 

“ I'll sleep when I'm dead, Jimmy.”

 

“ Which may be this afternoon if you try to go into battle without any rest.”

 

“ Please, Vega,” John rolled his eyes, “Do you know how many times we had to go on blind drops after days of no sleep for N-training? Trust me, I know what my limits are. Besides, before the collector base, I often went days at a time without sleep.”

 

“ Why's that?”

 

“ Nightmares,” Shepard shrugged. “Trust issues. I was working for goddamn terrorists after all, and I knew my cabin was bugged. Hard to get any rest when you know you're being filmed.” He turned his attention back to the cold coffee, flinging it out in the sink and pouring a fresh cup. As an afterthought, he got down a second mug and poured a cup for James, passing it to him with a soft kiss and an apologetic smile.

 

“ Thanks,” James took a sip of the coffee. “Did you at least give them a good show?”

 

Shepard grinned. “Well, you already know I like to sleep naked, so.”

 

James snorted. “Bet your naked ass is the screensaver on half the terminals in Cerberus.”

 

John snickered. “Wonder if the Illusive Man had it on his?”

 

“ Should I be worried about vid of you wankin' it showing up on the extranet?”

 

“ Probably,” Shepard admitted, sipping his coffee then grinning at his lover, blue eyes sparkling with mirth. James chuckled, shaking his head.

 

“ You're on the ground when we get to Palaven,” Shepard turned serious. “You and Liara both. Meet me in the war room in thirty and we'll go over the mission brief. Make sure the equipment is ready to go.”

 

“ Yes, sir!”

 

Shepard winked at him. “See you in a few.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and James receive some shocking news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, if you haven't read Things Unexpected before this chapter might be slightly confusing, but honestly, I think y'all are smart enough to pick up on the plot point in reference here. :)
> 
> And I forgot to mention this in chapter 1, but updates will be every Tuesday.

Shepard stared at the message in front of him, quickly committing the six simple words to memory.

 

_ The shuttle crash was no accident. _

 

He'd known when the reapers finally came all hell would break loose. The  _ Normandy _ crew had spent the last two weeks putting out fires, both literal and figurative, all over the galaxy. The krogan and turians had been breathing down his neck about a damn genophage cure. Cerberus had decided now was the perfect time to forget, yet again, that serving humanity's best interest involved actually keeping humans alive. The Council members were being their usual, self-important, utterly useless selves. And now this.

 

John cursed.

 

There was only one shuttle crash the sender could possibly be referring to.

 

“EDI, where did this message come from?”

 

“One moment, please.”

 

John tapped his fingers against the terminal, shifted his weight from foot to foot, rubbed his chin in agitation, then finally sighed and leaned against the console, bracing himself on his hands. “Any day now, EDI.”

 

“I assure you that I am working as quickly as possible.”

 

“Sorry,” Shepard muttered, staring at the message some more and kneading the muscles at the back of his neck. He didn't have time to deal with this shit right now, but it was hardly something that could be ignored.

 

“I apologize, Commander,” EDI's almost melodic voice sounded, “but I am unable to trace the origins of this message.”

 

“Dammit! Thanks for trying anyway.”

 

Locking the terminal, he spun away from it and crashed right into Private Campbell, her coffee sloshing all over both of them. John cursed again, then apologized to the Private, glancing around helplessly for anything to clean them up with. He shot an irritated glance toward the elevator, which Campbell did not miss.

 

“It's alright Commander. It was my fault. I'll handle cleaning this up. Go ahead and do what you need to.”

 

With a sigh, he thanked her then stepped into the elevator, directing it to deck five. James was hunched over his workbench, humming something cheery sounding. John sighed and muttered another string of curses. He did not relish spoiling the man's mood, but James needed to know, deserved the right to get pissed about it.

 

“Hey, Loco,” James said with a wide grin when John stepped up beside him. His face fell the moment he caught Shepard's expression. “What's up?” John passed him the datapad, arms crossed over his chest, and watched as James' confused expression twisted into one of rage. “Where the hell did you get this?”

 

“Delivered to my inbox this morning. Sender untraceable.”

 

“Son of a bitch,” James muttered. “Why the fuck would anyone want to kill my family?”

 

Shepard unfolded his arms, placing his hands on his hips as his eyes roved the cargo hold before they finally settled on James'.

 

“You think they were trying to get to you?” Vega said quietly.

 

“I'd like to think not, but... what other explanation could there be?”

 

“Fuck!” James paced away from the workbench, hands skimming his scalp in agitation. “You think they're still gunning for you?”

 

“Presumably. Why else would someone send this to me? What I don't know is if it's a warning, or...”

 

“Bait.” James' pacing increased, a steady stream of Spanish curses spewing forth.

 

“We're going to figure this out, Jimmy. I promise you that.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

John glanced around the bay and found it mostly deserted. Taking advantage of their privacy, Shepard grabbed James by the collar and pulled him further into the lieutenant's work space. “I'm so sorry,” he whispered, fiddling with the chain of James’ dog tags, unable to meet the man's eyes. “This is... I got your fucking family killed, Jimmy. Shit!”

 

“No you didn't, Johnny. Some seriously fucked up individuals killed them out of spite. That's not your fault.”

 

It was still difficult to meet the younger man's eyes. James' absolution did little to assuage John's guilt.

 

“Come on. Be fucking pissed off, and help me stop these bastards,” James said. “But don't take this on yourself.”

 

With a nod, John pressed his lips to the younger man's, murmuring words of love and devotion. James returned the sentiment, wrapping his arms around Shepard..

 

“Let's take this to Liara and see what she can give us,” John said as he pulled away.

 

**

 

James prowled the Shadow Broker's office like a caged lion while Shepard watched Liara type away at her terminal. There had been moments of doubt as to whether or not he'd made the right call in letting her keep the old Shadow Broker's ship, but he couldn't deny that having this network of intelligence at his beck and call was very useful. The fact that having Liara and this wealth of information was beneficial still didn't make it right. However, he couldn't afford to be too choosy at the moment.

 

EDI had failed to track the sender of the message. Knowing the other party had covered their tracks so well raised too many red flags to count. It was apparent that this case could get ugly real fast.

 

“Fucking bastard pieces of shit,” James muttered darkly as he passed John for the tenth time, throwing in some other colorful Spanish words while he was at it.

 

“Jimmy, be patient. Liara will figure it out.”

 

The asari sighed, cutting her eyes toward the Commander. “This could take some time,” she said, and Shepard caught the hint. Get the lieutenant the hell out of there.

 

They both had plenty of work to do, but somehow Shepard suspected that James wouldn't be able to focus on it. “James, with me,” John ordered, and the Lieutenant followed him into the elevator. Shepard directed the lift to deck one in order to change out of his uniform, still stained with Private Campbell's coffee.

 

“Where are we going?” James asked as they headed back down to the CIC.

 

“I've got some errands to run today, and you're going to help me.”

 

“So you're babysitting me?”

 

“If you want to see it that way, Jimmy, go ahead. I just thought it would help to get your mind off things. I have a shitload of things to get done before we head back out tomorrow, and unfortunately they’re not going anywhere.”

 

James sighed as they entered the elevator to the docking bay. “Not that I don't appreciate it, Johnny, but...”

 

“Jimmy.” Shepard stepped closer and pressed his lips to the younger man's. “We're going to find them. I promise you that. I won't rest until we do.”

 

“You've got too much shit going on to worry about this,” James huffed. “I just...” He let out a frustrated growl.

 

“Tell me what you need, babe,” John said, pulling Jimmy into his arms. “Whatever you want, I'll make it happen.”

 

He chuckled lightly, returning Johnny's embrace. “Nothing like having the first human Spectre for a boyfriend. Can you really get me anything I want?”

 

“I don't know about  _ anything _ ,” Shepard laughed, “but... there are plenty of services I can provide for you.” His voice had taken on that husky tone that never failed to send shivers down James' spine.

 

“ _ Dios _ ,” he muttered.

 

“What if we go get an early lunch?”

 

“Then?”

 

“Whatever you want,” John assured him, cupping his cheeks and meeting his gaze head on.  “It doesn’t have to be sex. Anything you need, Jimmy. I’m here for you.” 

 

**

 

James wondered how it came to be that noodles were the most popular Earth dish served on the Citadel. One could hardly round a corner without running across another fucking noodle stand. Obviously the denizens of the galaxy had yet to truly experience the joy of homemade tortillas. But somehow, Shepard had managed to find a dinky place in the lower wards, nestled in the corner of some dark alley, that served real deal authentic Spanish food. The neighborhood looked more like a place one would visit to pay for the illicit pleasures the Citadel had to offer, but James couldn't deny the fact that the food was incredible. Almost as good as his abuela's. Even the vat grown beef in the tacos was seasoned well enough to hide the fake taste it usually held.

 

John watched his lover as he devoured his food, glad that he could find some sort of distraction in it. James was quiet though, and everyone who knew him would understand what an oddity it was. He was the kind of guy who was the life of the party, drawing attention to himself wherever he went. Shepard's mouth curved into a frown as he imagined what the man must be thinking about, but he didn't bring it up. No use making the situation worse.

 

“So,” Shepard began as he pushed away his empty plate, “what do you want to do next?”

 

“Well, I've been trying to spend some time with the refugees down at the docks. We've been keeping a poker game going. I think... I mean... I'd love to spend some more time with you, but I know you've got a bunch of shit to do. It wouldn't be right to keep you from it.”

 

“I don't mind clearing my schedule for you, Jimmy. You're more important to me than any of these mindless errands.” He reached for James' hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

 

“Nah, there's no need for that. Those guys down at the docks like to see me coming,” he grinned. “I typically throw the game so they can have a few extra credits to spend. God knows everyone needs all the help they can get right now.”

 

John huffed a laugh as he paid for their lunch. The pair of them parted ways at the elevator with a kiss.

 

“Hey, meet me at Purgatory when you get done?” James called after him.

 

“Sure thing. See you in a bit.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's smut in the last third or so of this, so if it's not your thing, you might want to skip.

James felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist, a soft pair of lips on his neck. “Hey, don't let my boyfriend catch you doing that,” he said without looking over his shoulder. “He's kinda famous for kicking ass.”

 

Shepard bit lightly on the crook of his neck, giving the younger man's hips a squeeze for good measure. “Sounds like a total badass. Maybe you should introduce us.”

 

James twisted in his arms, kissing him firmly, then drew his head down to rest on his shoulder.

 

“ Know what I want?” Shepard murmured into his ear in order to be heard over the thumping music of the club.

 

“ A blow job and a nap?”

 

“ Well... that wasn't what I was thinking, but... now you mention it...”

 

James thumped him on the ear, and Shepard laughed, then said, “A root beer float and a cheeseburger.”

 

“ Think they have that at Apollo's?”

 

“ Doubtful... these assholes probably don't even know what root beer is.”

 

“ They have real beer here at Purgatory... or tequila.”

 

“ Yuck... you know I don't like tequila. How about a double shot of whiskey? Guess it'll have to stand in for root beer.”

 

James waved the bartender over and gave him John's order, requesting another beer for himself at the same time. “You're causing a scene,” he muttered in Shepard's ear, gesturing toward the nearby table full of marines.

 

“ Should I flip them off? Drop to my knees and suck your dick?”

 

“ How about you just buy 'em a round,” James laughed.

 

“ You just want me to pay for your drinks,” John grumbled.

 

“ Well... your assets aren't frozen anymore...”

 

Shepard barked a laugh and lifted his head from James' shoulder. “You always did have an eye on my 'assets.'” He downed his drink in one go and waved his glass for another, tucking himself back into James' embrace. He was dog tired – feet aching and head pounding. The raucous music wasn't helping on that score, and he really just wanted to go to bed. Preferably with Jimmy. James had asked him to meet here, though, so John had come to spend what little free time they had together.

 

James gripped the back of his neck, rubbing the knots out with a firm hand. John let out a groan, ignoring the bartender when he brought his second drink. “Can we help you?” James asked just as Shepard felt a tap on his shoulder.

 

Shepard looked up to find a batarian staring at him. “Something I can do for you?”

 

“ Aria T'loak wishes to speak with you.”

 

“ Aria is here?”

 

The batarian hitched his thumb behind him, and Shepard followed the trail to see that, sure enough, Aria T'loak was sitting on a couch on the other side of the VIP section of Purgatory, looking bored with the asari shaking her ass right in front of the pirate queen of Omega.

 

“ Tell her I'll be over in a little bit.”

 

“ Aria wants to see you now,” the batarian said.

 

“ Yes, but I'm not Aria's fucking lap dog, and I'll go see her when I get good and goddamn ready.”

 

The batarian grabbed Shepard by the shoulder, and John gripped his hand, spinning him and twisting the man's arm behind him till he squawked in pain. “I said I'll go see her when I'm ready. Now fuck off before somebody gets hurt, alright?”

 

“ You'll regret this, Shepard,” the batarian said, but scurried away when John released him.

 

“ Fucking Aria,” John spat.

 

“ You know Aria T'loak?”

 

“ Had to go through her to conduct business on Omega. Don't know what in hell she's doing here. That shithole is her paradise. I'll have to go talk to her eventually, but what's up with your friends over there?” He gestured toward the group of marines that were now gawking at Shepard and James.

 

“ They been buying me rounds all night, but they clammed up as soon as you walked in.”

 

“ I'm not surprised. Why do you think that is?”

 

“ They still just see you as a legend, Loco. Not a soldier. You're not like the rest of us... or so they think.”

 

“ And buying them a round will help with that?”

 

“ Couldn't hurt.” James gave him his best shit eating grin, and Shepard gripped him by the face, planting a kiss right on his lips.

 

“ Fine. I'll buy you and your friends a round. Then I'd better go see what Aria wants. I swear, I can't have ten goddamn minutes to myself.”

 

“ _ Compadres _ ,” James called to the table full of marines, “the Commander would like you to have a drink... on him!”

 

The marines wandered over nervously until Shepard passed out the drinks he'd bought and James said, “So here's to us!”

 

“ Who's like us?” One of the marines shouted.

 

Shepard grinned, snapped a salute, “Damn few... and they're all dead.” The marines seemed to relax after that, and invited John and James to join them at their table.

 

“ Vega,” one of the men said, “you didn't tell us you were  _ dating _ Commander Shepard.”

 

“ You didn't ask, Walters,” James said, taking a swig of his beer.

 

John shook his head with a grin, “Who says we're dating? I'm just using him for his body.” He winked at James who laughed and rolled his eyes.

 

The group spent the next hour or so swapping war stories. They were mostly the same. Some of them had managed to escape earth. Some came from the remnants of the fleet. Talking with them left Shepard with mixed emotions. Logically, he knew that everyone needed some downtime every now and again, but hearing the stories of these marines made the urgency of their situation hit home harder than before. It was sobering, and the whiskey he'd been sipping now tasted sour in his mouth. He abandoned the glass and bid the marines goodnight, letting his fingers trail over James' shoulder as he walked away.

 

Aria was waiting for him, and she looked none too happy about his dismissal of her messenger. Shepard didn't really care. He let her bitch for a few minutes, then asked what in the hell she was doing on the Citadel, which started her on a different tirade where her ire was directed away from him. After listening to her go on and on about her growing list of enemies and people she was going to either gut or make sorry they'd ever been born, she finally got to the point and offered Shepard her merc armies for the war if he'd go round up all the leaders for her.

 

He was too tired to think about the ramifications of such a merger at the moment, so he brushed her off without making her think that he'd brushed her off, and went to find James again. The younger man was still sitting at the table with his marine pals, but Shepard wasn't in the mood for carousing at the moment.

 

“ What'd Aria want?” James asked when Shepard resumed his seat.

 

Shepard waved a dismissive hand. “Tell you later. Think I'm going to call it a night, guys.” He bid them goodnight and made to stand, but James launched his now quite inebriated self at him and smooshed their lips together.

 

“ Take me with you, Johnny-boy.”

 

He laughed and hauled the man up, getting a shoulder under his arm so he could lead him out the door. James always tended to get a little grabby when he'd been drinking, and tonight was no exception. They hadn't even made it to the door when the younger man's hand found its way to Shepard's crotch. He was like an octopus when he was drunk, and it seemed the more John tried to keep his dignity intact, the more James was determined to ruin it.

 

Somehow, they made it to the elevator, where James shoved him into the wall and attacked his lips like a dying man at an oasis. Something in the back of Shepard's mind told him to put a stop to it, but he was tired and worn down and this felt good and made him happy, so he let it continue. He didn't even remember tapping the keypad to take them to the  _ Normandy's _ docking bay, but they heard someone clearing their throat and stopped long enough to see an asari couple glaring at them with unamused expressions.

 

James smiled a sloppy smile and pointed at John. “He s'ma boyfriend,” he slurred.

 

“ Good for you,” one of the asari said.

 

John tried to keep from laughing as he maneuvered James out of the elevator and toward the ship. James went back to groping him, and Shepard knew that one of these days they were going to end up on the damn news. Hopefully not tonight though. Truth was it was a damned miracle it hadn't happened already. They'd never been terribly discreet, and when they were out drinking there was no way to separate James from his PDA. He was a toucher. Had been from day one. And booze and horniness brought it out in him tenfold. Shepard took a moment to wonder if Liara was the one responsible for making sure that their drunken indiscretions stayed out of headline news. Maybe he should flat out ask her. He owed her at least a thank you if that were the case.

 

Any thoughts of news or Liara or anything else for that matter flew out the window as soon as they stepped into the airlock. James had him against the wall again in the blink of an eye, palming him through his jeans, nibbling on his earlobe, and Shepard's brain short circuited, focusing on nothing but the hard body against his and the need throbbing between his legs. The door hissed open, but thankfully the bridge was empty. There were a handful of straggling crewmen in the CIC, but they mostly ignored their commander and his drunk boyfriend as they stumbled toward the elevator. At least James had the wherewithal to keep his hands clear of John's dick – until the elevator door closed anyway.

 

They staggered into their quarters, where James promptly shoved him against the wall again, holding him in place with his hips and ripping both of their shirts off. They each worked at the other’s belt and trouser snaps until they could push them down to their knees and take each other in hand. James' lips were all over John's torso – nipping and licking and leaving wet patches of saliva to cool in the room's artificial atmosphere.

 

John had a brief thought that he needed to feed his fish, remembered the VI, then tried angling James toward the bed, pausing to kick out of his boots and pants. James, on the other hand, continued trying to walk with his pants around his ankles and nearly fell down the stairs before John caught him, giggling, and helped him the rest of the way out of his clothing. They bounced off the handrail, the locker, the chair before falling into bed, mouths latched together, grunts and moans filling the air. James rolled him over, kissing a scorching trail down his torso, tongue darting out for little tastes as he went. John's head lolled back, pressing into the mattress when his lover reached his swollen erection and took it into his mouth without preamble.

 

“ Holy fuck,” Shepard gasped, one fist gripping what he could of James' short hair while the other twisted in the blanket at his side. “Give me yours,” he managed when James pulled off to suck in a deep breath. The younger man grinned up at him, then turned himself around quickly. John started with a few teasing licks, trying desperately to concentrate on his own task, rather than what James was doing to him. It wasn't easy.

 

James' mouth was hot and soft and wet, and he'd quickly mastered the art of giving good head. It was all John could do not to roll him over and relentlessly fuck his mouth. Instead, he swirled his tongue around the head of James' cock, letting his teeth graze carefully over the smooth skin at the tip before pulling him in and hollowing his cheeks. He continued to work him, hard and gentle, fast and slow, until James was whimpering and thrusting shallowly into his mouth. Shepard gave one hard suck then pulled off, earning a whine from James. Coating his finger with saliva, he pressed it into James, immediately seeking out the man's prostate.

 

“ Johnny, fuck.” James pulled off, and it was Shepard's turn to whine and buck his hips slightly, hoping the man would take the hint. Gripping Shepard's dick tightly in his fist, James pumped him slow and easy, trying to catch his breath, as John worked him over. James wasn't going to last much longer, Shepard knew, and he added a second finger along with the first to massage the nerves inside him. His other hand played with James' balls until he felt them tightening up. James took Shepard's cock back into his mouth, cupping his balls in one hand, rolling them together. They came at the same time, flooding each other's mouth. 

 

Shepard sank into the bed with a groan, and James rested his head on John's thigh, both of them panting. Slowly, James turned around and crawled up to lay beside John, throwing an arm and leg over him. Their lips met for a leisurely kiss as their bodies curled around one another. Fingers and lips continued their lazy caresses until they both drifted into blissful slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

_ Normandy _ 's crew ran at full throttle for the next few weeks. Requests for help had them zigzagging across the galaxy, until even Joker was complaining about all the flight time. After curing the genophage, Shepard ordered the ship back to the Citadel for a brief shore leave. His heart was heavy after the loss of Mordin, and he still worried that someone was lurking around every corner, just waiting to finish the job they'd started back in Vancouver.

 

Liara hadn't been able to make much headway on the investigation of those who'd murdered James' family. She claimed it was because the war had eliminated so many of her agents, and blamed herself for not investigating when she'd first gotten wind of the shuttle crash. The whole thing had become a thorn in Shepard's side, but for all that he wanted it dealt with for James' peace of mind, he could hardly blame Liara for taking so long. It wasn't as if this was the only thing she had on her plate at the moment.

 

The reapers were marching across the galaxy destroying whole planets at will. Colonies were destroying themselves in order to avoid being killed or captured by the reapers. People everywhere were dying by the millions, and  _ Normandy _ was only one ship. The fleets were spread thin, busting ass to save as many as possible, and it pissed Shepard off to no end that someone would choose this time to exact revenge for some personal vendetta.

 

He'd known from the get-go that the Illusive Man was batshit crazy, so he honestly wasn't all that surprised that Cerberus had chosen to go to war right now. The timing could certainly have been better, though. Shepard was under so much strain that James and Chakwas both had told him he was in danger of having a heart attack if he didn't take a moment to relax. Thus the planned shore leave.

 

John sat at his desk in the captain's quarters with his head in his hands. There were at least three dozen reports demanding immediate responses. Half of those were from self-important Admirals who hoped they could make the great Commander Shepard snap to and do their bidding. He hated to be the one to break it to them, but the only people in the galaxy he was answering to at the moment were Hackett and Anderson. On very rare occasions, he obeyed the orders of the Council – so long as their demands lined up with his agenda. The idea that there might be backlash from his insubordination didn't concern him all that much. The work he and the  _ Normandy _ were doing was too important to let ambitious officers and politicians stop him. In the grand scheme of things, stroking egos was dead last on his to-do list. In truth, it always had been.

 

His head was pounding, but he knew he'd have to muster the energy to begin dealing with these messages at some point. All he really wanted to do, however, was crawl under his covers and pull them over his head to hide for awhile.

 

The door whirred open, and Shepard didn't even have to look to know that James was there. “Come on,” the man said, lifting John out of the chair and manhandling him down to the bed. Shepard flopped onto the mattress, groaning in relief as his body sank back into it. James sat on the end of the bed and removed John's boots and socks, moving up to his fatigues next. When Shepard was left in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, James wrestled him under the covers and pulled them up to his chin.

 

“Jimmy,” Shepard protested weakly, already yawning and snuggling down into the welcoming pillows.

 

“Go to sleep, Johnny-boy,” the younger man whispered, kissing his cheek, and John was asleep before James stood back up.

 

**

 

Shepard's sleep was blessedly dreamless, if short-lived. He woke to the sound of his lover's muttered curses and sat up, glancing blearily around the room. “ _ Mierda _ ,” James swore again when he saw that John was awake. “I'm sorry, Johnny, but there's a problem at the Citadel.”

 

“Of course there is.” John yawned and stretched and hauled himself out of bed, staggering toward the bathroom. “Give me the sitrep,” he called as he started the shower.

 

James hovered in the doorway, watching with interest as Shepard quickly washed. “No response from Alliance tower. No clearance to dock. Joker can't get in touch with anyone.”

 

“All I wanted was a couple days of shore leave,” John lamented. “Just a few fucking days of not having to chase people down or kill anyone.”

 

“What did you plan to do with your shore leave?” James asked with a grin.

 

“You. Repeatedly.”

 

Jimmy laughed as Shepard toweled off and pulled on a fresh pair of underwear. “Well, maybe we can make that happen after the current crisis.”

 

“God, I hope so.”

 

John brushed his teeth while James watched him. When Shepard tried to step around the larger man, James blocked his path, pulling him close. His hands wandered over John's damp skin as he inhaled the fresh, clean scent of him. “I hope so too, Johnny-boy,” he murmured before leaning in to kiss him.

 

**

 

Shepard had known from the moment he met Donnel Udina that he hated the man. Anyone with eyes in their head could see that he cared for no one but himself. During the coup, his self-centered political aspirations had cost them the lives of dozens of good men and women. Not to mention, Shepard had nearly had to kill his old friend, Ashley Williams.

 

Damn, he needed a drink and a vacation. Preferably somewhere warm and tropical where he could get piña coladas by the gallon and all the little paper umbrellas he could want. James would have to be there too, slathered in some coconut-smelling lotion. No, oil would be better. They'd make love till the wee hours of the morning, and nap in the sand and sun the next day, sipping their frozen versions of heaven in a glass, and talking about all the dirty things they wanted to do to each other when the sun went down again.

 

With a sigh, he punched the call button for the elevator. In truth, what he really needed at the moment was a nap. He was nearly home free. All that stood between him and merciful sleep were a couple of elevator rides and a few short steps to his bed. He probably wouldn't even bother taking his boots off.

 

He very nearly groaned in disappointment when the door to the bay opened and he saw Ashley standing there. There was a certain temptation to either agree to whatever she wanted or just tell her no without listening, if for no other reason than to not be on his feet anymore. The duffel bag at her feet made him take notice, however, and he stifled a yawn as he leaned against the window overlooking the ship.

 

Shepard listened with one ear as Ashley laid out her reasons for wanting to rejoin the  _ Normandy _ as if she were rehearsing for a job interview. Williams stopped mid-sentence and looked the Commander over. “You look dead on your feet, Skipper,” she observed.

 

“You could say that.” He gave up all pretense of hiding his exhaustion, yawning and closing his eyes as he let his head rest against the cool, soothing glass. “Come on. Let's get you settled in,” he said after Ashley cleared her throat. Had he really fallen asleep standing up?

 

“I can come with you?”

 

“You didn't think I'd do this without you, did you?” he asked, hiding another yawn behind his fist.

 

Ashley laughed and gripped him by the elbow, half holding him upright. “Come on, Skipper. Let's find your boy toy and tell him to put you to bed.”

 

**

 

A solid weight kept Shepard pressed into the bed, but he didn't even try to fight it off. He moaned sleepily as James began to stir behind him. “Morning, Loco,” the man murmured as he rolled away and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Shepard's response was little more than a muffled  _ mmphf. _

 

Vega chuckled as he headed toward the shower in their hotel room. “I'm hungry, Loco. Let's go get something.”

 

“Room service,” Shepard muttered into his pillow. “Don't think I can walk this morning anyway.” He pulled the covers over his head as James started switching on lights.

 

“A little fresh air will do you good.”

 

“It's not fresh air,” John reminded him. “It's just as stale and recycled as what's on the ship.”

 

“Yeah, but we can at least look at water and something green while we eat, unlike the ship or this room.”

 

Shepard contemplated ways to lure his lover back to bed, but decided he was simply too tired. The sooner he gave in about going out for breakfast, the sooner they could come back and nap some more. 

 

The war was wearing him down. Much more so than he wanted to admit to anyone. He would have thought he'd gotten plenty of rest during his incarceration, but for the last month, he'd been barreling forward at full throttle. All he wanted to do now was get a little sleep.

 

“If we go out for breakfast, you have to promise me we'll come straight back here for a nap afterward,” Shepard bargained.

 

“Fine, fine, you lazy ass. Now come on and take a shower with me. I know you need it after last night.”

 

Grumbling under his breath, John complied, warming more and more to the idea of a shower and a hot meal as James' hands roved his body under the streaming water. After a relaxing shower, mind-blowing orgasm, and filling breakfast, he felt well enough to go for the walk that Jimmy suggested. James had even made him buy some frou-frou coffee drink – something more closely resembling a milkshake than a cup of coffee – from a specialty stand that tasted better than Shepard expected.

 

They walked hand in hand, reminiscent of the trips they would take to the park in Vancouver, and Shepard was beginning to realize just how needed and appreciated this shore leave actually was. Purposefully ignoring the black plumes of smoke in the distance that were caused by the coup, Shepard let himself just enjoy the time spent alone with his lover. The too-sweet taste of his coffee milkshake coated his lips and tongue. He was just about to lean over to give James a sticky kiss when he heard someone calling his name.

 

“That woman is waving at us,” James said at almost the same instant.

 

Shepard growled in frustration, finishing off the last of his drink with a slurping sound. “This is why we should have gotten room service,” he snapped at James.

 

“You'd have missed out on the frappucino,” James pointed out.

 

“It wasn't  _ that _ damned good.” Shepard tossed the cup into the trash, and the pair made their way toward the woman.

 

“Jordan Noles, e-crimes. It's an honor to meet you, Commander.”

 

John shook the woman's offered hand, then crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her. Annoyance hung around his head like a cloud, and Noles glanced back and forth between Shepard and Vega, seeming to come to a quick understanding of why the Commander was so put out.

 

“I apologize for... interrupting your day, Commander, but I need the help of a Spectre. I've got a saboteur hacking key systems. Power, communications... it's bad. If you've got time to help, check out this console.”

 

Sighing, Shepard pulled up his omni-tool, which had just lit up with Noles' message. “Got it,” he said, frustration still coating his words. “Looks like a collection of access codes.”

 

“They're batarian diplomatic codes... from back when they had an embassy on the Citadel. If you can use your Spectre access to find them, I can shut them down.”

 

“Batarians,” Shepard griped under his breath. “I can access restricted intel at the Spectre office in the embassy. If I find anything, I'll let you know.”

 

“Thank you, Commander, and again, I apologize for interrupting your... date?”

 

Shepard huffed a short, quick laugh. “Yeah, well... I guess the middle of a war isn't the best time for romance, shore leave or no. Noles, this is my partner, Lieutenant James Vega.”

  
James shook the woman's hand, and the three of them engaged in small talk for a minute or two before Shepard dragged his lover away. “You are  _ so _ gonna make this up to me tonight, Jimmy.”


	5. Chapter 5

Shepard demanded that James go with him to track down each infected console that Noles sent his way. Jimmy had gotten him into this mess with his insistence that they go out for breakfast rather than staying in their hotel and ordering room service. James began to wonder if Johnny was ever going to let him forget that particular detail. It had been a terrific morning until they'd run into that damned e-crimes officer, and James was so sick of listening to Shepard bitch that he was ready to back and give Noles a piece of his mind.

 

“I hate the way hospitals smell,” Shepard groused.

 

“I know. I'm fucking sorry, alright? Jesus!”

 

John cut his eyes toward James before he began the hack on the console. “I’m sorry, Jimmy,” he sighed. “This isn't how I'd wanted our shore leave to go. I was afraid of getting sucked into yet another mission if we left that room, but... I'm acting like an asshole. I'm sorry.”

 

“It's alright, Loco. I get it. I just thought it'd be fun to go on a breakfast date. I had no idea it'd end up like this.” The younger man huffed and shifted from foot to foot.

 

“Well, let's hurry up and finish this, and then we can get back to our shore leave. I have some good ideas on what you can do to make it up to me.” Shepard smirked at his lover, and James couldn't contain his grin.

 

Stepping closer to the Commander as he began tapping away on the console, James murmured, “Oh yeah? And what would those be?”

 

Shepard didn't look up from what he was doing, just smiled and pitched his voice low so that only James could hear him. “Well, first-”

 

“This console is where the first access code was used,” Noles interrupted over their comm link. “Someone used this to cut off power to a dozen life support machines in the hospital.”

 

“Shit!” Shepard exclaimed while James muttered, “ _ Mierda! _ ” Any evening plans they might have made fell by the wayside. What Shepard thought was a simple errand took an urgent turn, and John set his omni-tool to scan for the next console.

 

“Jimmy, if you need to go do something else-”

 

“Nah... this is important,” James cut him off. The omni-tool led them into the elevator, and Shepard leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

 

“Remember Rio?”

 

There was a wistful tone to Shepard's voice that made James smile affectionately, even though John didn't see it. “Yeah,” he said softly. “It was pretty great, huh?”

 

Johnny nodded his head. “I was just thinking how nice it'd be to take another trip like that one of these days.”

 

“You're just looking for an excuse to see me half naked and oiled up.”

 

“Fuck yeah, I am!” Shepard opened his eyes and smiled at his lover. He reached out a hand and James took it, letting John pull him closer. Shepard's arms went around his waist as James cupped his cheeks, and their mouths met for a slow, savoring kiss. “We should probably stop making out in elevators all the time.”

 

“Why?” Jimmy grinned, kissing Shepard again.

 

A quiet cough alerted them that they had an audience, and Shepard groaned when he saw the same asari couple from a few weeks ago scowling at them. “We know he's your boyfriend,” one of them said when James opened his mouth to speak. “If you'd kindly relinquish the elevator, we would appreciate it.”

 

John laughed and made an apology as they left the asari to their own devices. “I've been thinking,” he told James as they made their way toward the next console. “We should probably send a thank you to Liara for keeping our public make-out sessions out of the news.”

 

“Uh... do you really think it's a problem?”

 

“I think when you're drunk and horny, you can't keep your hands off my cock no matter where we are,” Shepard murmured. “And I think it's happened often enough that we must have someone looking out for us if it hasn't been broadcast across the galaxy yet.”

 

“Oh,” James said in shock. “Sorry, man.” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around as if everyone were watching them.

 

“I'm not complaining, mind you,” John was quick to reassure him. “I'm just saying a ‘thank you’ might be in order.”

 

Jimmy coughed. “Yeah, probably.”

 

Shepard was still grinning at him like an idiot when he started hacking the new console. “Noles?”

 

“Holy crap,” Noles' tinny voice came through their comm link. “These were navigational codes. Last week's crash at the docks... we thought it was an accident. Shepard... there were one hundred seventeen soldiers on that ship. All human. Just like the ones at the hospital.”

 

“Perfect,” Shepard ground out. “So we've got a batarian with a grudge against humans and access to confidential command codes.”

 

“Looks that way,” Jordan confirmed. “Only one console remaining.”

 

“I'm not supposed to need my gun on shore leave,” Shepard complained as they headed for the elevator yet again. The final console was in the docks holding area. The place was so full of refugees that it became more and more difficult to wade through every time they came down here.

 

“I'm gonna stop by and say hello to my poker buddies, alright?”

 

Shepard waved James away and headed for the console. This little errand had turned into a potentially crucial mission. Hundreds of people had already died, likely due to some pissed-off batarian's twisted idea of justice. John was used to dealing with dishonest people. Hell, he'd grown up as one of them until he'd caught a lucky break and literally run into Anderson. The man had saved him from the life of crime and drugs the street had offered him since he was ten years old.

 

Shepard knew and understood desperation better than most, having lived with it for the better part of his childhood. Lying, stealing, and even turning to violence from time to time in order to survive was simply the way of the world. Using times of chaos and confusion to pull ahead of the rest of the galaxy, crushing those beneath you so that you could come out on top, infuriated Shepard, though. People were being exterminated by the millions, and every opportunist in the galaxy seemed to be just waiting for the chance to take their shot. Didn't they understand that everyone could be dead by tomorrow?

 

Since meeting Anderson, Shepard had striven to be an honorable sort of man. He tried to avoid shortcuts whenever possible, always tried to save as many lives as he could. Consequences were things he took very seriously, and he knew that every decision he made, no matter how seemingly insignificant, held ramifications that he couldn't always foresee. There had been more than one mission in his career that made him wish for a mulligan.

 

Hearing the voice behind the cold pistol barrel pressing between his shoulder blades made him once again curse some of those decisions. “Balak.”

 

“Shepard,” the batarian spat. “You should have killed me on Terra Nova when you had the chance.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

It was impossible to predict every outcome, but saving the lives of those scientists on the asteroid had appeared the most compassionate choice at the time. Thinking of the hundreds dead because he'd let this monster go free turned Shepard's stomach. Not wanting to hear the man’s threats or excuses, the Commander spun around, knocking Balak's gun out of his hand. The batarian doubled over when Shepard sucker-punched him in the gut, and John took the momentary distraction to retrieve the pistol, aiming it for Balak's head when he stood up again.

 

Once again, Shepard was faced with a choice – kill Balak or let him go free. As much as he hated the thought of murdering an unarmed man in cold blood, he knew he couldn't trust the batarian to go on his merry way and leave well enough alone. If there was a chance to finish this before it truly began, he had to take it – should have taken it years ago on Terra Nova. 

 

But John had been around the block enough times to know that whenever one kingpin fell, another rose up to take his place. Balak was a waste of a good bullet in more ways than one. Not only did the man not deserve the peace of death, another one just like him was certainly lurking around the corner, waiting for his own chance to deal out death and judgment as he saw fit.

 

In the end, though, Shepard couldn't justify letting Balak go. With resources already stretched thin due to the war, Balak would add undue strain on the overtaxed prison system. Part of Shepard hated that he'd been given a virtual free pass to dispose of those he deemed unworthy of the air they breathed, but the darker part of himself that he tried to deny relished it. With a twitch of his finger, Shepard could make sure that Balak didn't have the chance to escape justice. For all those who'd died because of Shepard's weakness back on Terra Nova, when he'd let Balak go the first time, John pulled the trigger, watching with grim satisfaction as the batarian dropped, lifeless to the floor.

 

**

 

Three hours and a Spectre report later, Shepard trudged onto the Normandy. Liara had called with 'urgent intel.' James was waiting, hopefully naked, at the hotel room. John could quite probably be getting laid right this very minute. He tried not to be too pissed at Liara as he thought of it and the post orgasmic nap he'd been craving all damned day.

 

Remembering his talk with James earlier, Shepard had purchased some tickets to an asari opera for his friend as a thank you for keeping their drunken antics out of the public eye. The concert was a charity event, proceeds going to assist the refugees on the Citadel. The pragmatic side of him was pleased that he could kill two birds with one stone.

 

“I love that opera,” Liara said when he walked through her door.

 

“I didn't even give you the tickets yet,” Shepard frowned.

 

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, Shepard.”

 

He rolled his eyes and tossed the envelope on her desk. “I'm glad we're not dating. I'd never be able to surprise you with anything.”

 

“Maybe I would have learned to let things slide if that were the case,” she said with a smile.

 

Shepard huffed a laugh. “So the tickets were to say thanks.”

 

“For?”

 

“For making sure pictures of James with his hand on my crotch haven’t shown up all over the damned extranet,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

Liara laughed. “Your shenanigans do make for quality evening entertainment.”

 

“Ah, Jesus, Liara. I really hope you don't mean that how it sounded!”

 

“I'm sure I don't know what you mean. Now,” she went on, deftly changing the subject while Shepard cursed internally, “I finally found out who was behind the attacks at James' apartment and the shuttle transporting his family.”

 

That got Shepard's attention. “Who?” he uncrossed his arms and stepped toward her desk.

 

“Balak,” she said, tapping away on one of the consoles.

 

Shepard watched as the vid screens showed a picture of the now-dead batarian as well as the trail of evidence pointing to him as the culprit. “Well, I'll be damned,” he said. “I just killed him a few hours ago for something totally unrelated.”

 

“I know,” she said with a smile. “But I thought you'd want to know that you'd... what's that human expression? Killed two batarians with one bullet?”

 

“Something like that.” Shepard rubbed his chin with his hand as he read through the information. The evidence all pointed to Balak, and John felt relieved that they could finally call this case closed. James would be happy to know that his family had been avenged, and they could get back to their shore leave. This time, they wouldn't be leaving the hotel room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First half is smut if you want to skip it. :)

Shepard groaned as James squeezed a particularly big knot in his shoulders. “ _ Dios _ , you’re tense, Johnny.” Large hands coated in oil that smelled like coconuts slid easily up and down Shepard’s spine, digging in every now and again to massage away the tension. The scent of the oil reminded him of their trip to Rio, and Shepard suspected that that had been James’ intention when he’d purchased it. 

 

Someday, he wanted to take his lover back there, revist the time they’d spent. He sighed, knowing that ‘someday’ was likely a pipe dream for guys like him and Jimmy. He’d learned at a young age to enjoy what he had now without wishing for an impossible future. 

 

Forcing the morose thoughts away, he pulled up his omni-tool and found a white noise app playing the sounds of waves crashing on the shore. James chuckled as John settled back down. “We can at least pretend, right? And this way we don’t have to worry about sand in our ass cracks.”

 

James laughed again and leaned down to lay a kiss behind John’s ear. “Love you, Johnny-boy.” 

 

“Love you, too,” Shepard murmured before another satisfied noise was forced out of his lungs by James’ ministrations. 

 

He reveled in the feel of James’ hands on his body, the sound of water, the smell of the oil, and for a few minutes he could let himself believe that they were there. That the galaxy and all its problems were not theirs to sort out. He could imagine what life might be like if they managed to win, to survive. “Let’s move to the beach when this is over,” he suggested, and the younger man hummed his approval of the idea. 

 

“What would we do?” 

 

“Well, between missions, we’d be there… probably fucking.” 

 

James laughed. “I could teach you to surf.” 

 

“Yeah, that too, I guess.” 

 

James smacked his naked ass cheek, and Shepard chuckled.

 

“The galaxy will still need us when this is all over.” 

 

“Assuming we survive without deforming injuries,” James muttered.

 

“What? You won’t love me anymore if I’m all disfigured?” 

 

“I’ll always love you, Johnny-boy,” James said softly, kissing the back of Shepard’s neck. “I just… I don’t want to think about what’s going to happen. I can’t… can’t imagine what it’ll be like if the war ends and we don’t both come out the other side. And I don’t want all these dreams to be disappointed about never realizing if…”

 

“If I don’t make it.” 

 

James grunted, acknowledgment of, if not agreement with, Shepard’s statement. It was scary to think about, John had to admit to himself. If he died, he died. There was nothing to prevent it, no way to stop it. James, on the other hand... If Jimmy died, Shepard would be hard pressed to find a reason to keep living, to continue on. But all couples probably felt that way. No one wanted to give up true love and joy once they’d found it, no matter the circumstances. It did seem more than a little unfair though that this was the lot he and James had been given. He also knew that James was stronger than he gave himself credit for. 

 

John tried to roll over, but James held him down with a firm grip on his shoulders. “Stay. I’m not done.” 

 

“You’re mighty bossy today,” Shepard grumbled. 

 

“Sometimes you need to be bossed around.” James shifted lower on Shepard’s body, hands coming to rest on John’s ass. He began kneading the mounds of flesh, and John moaned again. How could something as ridiculous as a butt massage feel so damn good? “Even your ass is tense,” James said. Shepard snickered and was rewarded with another slap on said ass. “Get your mind out of the gutter.” 

 

“You know you were thinking it, Jimm...mmm,” his words broke away on a long hum of enjoyment. “Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed. “I’ll give you an hour to stop doing that.” 

 

Calloused fingers squeezed his hips before gliding through the oil on Shepard’s backside. They swept up in a wide arc, brushing closer and closer to John’s center with every pass. Soon they were dipping between his cheeks, slick digits pressing against Shepard’s entrance. John took up a steady stream of quiet curses and groans as James ran his fingers along the cleft of his ass. Over and over he went, teasing the taut ring of muscle and down to Shepard’s perineum. 

 

John was a boneless mass on the bed, body more relaxed than he could remember being in a very long time. His muscles tingled with the memory of James’ massage, and he shifted slightly as his erection grew at an awkward angle, pressing uncomfortably into the mattress beneath him. James took this as an invitation to spread his cheeks wide and replace his fingers with his tongue. 

 

“Oh, fuck.” Johnny’s voice was thick with need and lust, and he felt James shiver against him, then wiggle around for a better angle. His lover stopped without warning, earning a disgruntled noise from Shepard, and the bed rocked as James stood up to strip out of his clothes. “Jimmy,” John whined.

 

Quiet laughter sounded behind him, then the younger man was back, draped over Shepard’s body, cocooning him like a warm, very heavy blanket. “Impatient,” James breathed against his neck, dragging his tongue up and around Shepard’s ear. The younger man shifted his hips forward, his dick sliding between John’s buttocks as he rocked. They hissed in unison, pleasure stealing their words and breaths.

 

“Let’s concentrate on tonight, hm?” James murmured, teeth nipping at the shell of Shepard’s ear. All John could manage in response was an incoherent mumble. All he could think about were the pleasant sensations happening everywhere James touched him. 

 

The younger man moved again, gripping Shepard’s hips to pull him to his knees. John lay limply on the bed, ass in the air, face planted firmly in his pillow as James went to work on him again. The slightly uncomfortable, greasy feeling of the oil on his skin went largely unnoticed in the wake of James’ attention. The man’s tongue dipped into his entrance, traced the ring of muscle, slipped inside again. 

 

“Yes, James…  _ fuck _ ,” Shepard dragged the words out as if he simply couldn’t find the strength to speak them. His dick hung hard and heavy between his legs, but he was content to ignore it for now. James shifted around again, and Shepard felt a finger slip into him. More fingers brushed against the back of his balls before James began fondling them gently. “God damn,” Shepard breathed. “You’re driving me crazy here, Jimmy.” 

 

“Kinda the point, Loco,” James lifted his head to say.

 

“No talking. If you’re talking, you can’t keep doing that.” 

 

James laughed and resumed his work as Shepard groaned and squirmed beneath him. He moaned at the taste of his lover, and John echoed him, throwing in a few breathy curses for good measure. Another finger was added along with the first, and James kept up the assault with fingers and tongue, rubbing against Shepard’s prostate until he was trembling and cursing in earnest. 

 

He brought Shepard to the brink time and again, driving him to the point that John was almost whining with the desire to release, body strung tight and quivering. Then he’d ease off, giving the older man time to catch his breath and relax into the gentle caresses and soothing kisses James was bestowing before beginning again. 

 

All the stress Shepard had been carrying for weeks melted away. Thoughts of the world outside their door became slippery, mercifully refusing to take root in his mind. If it had been James’ design to make him incapable of rational thought, then he was doing a bang-up job. The only thought his addled brain could conjure up at the moment was that if James didn’t let him come soon, his dick might explode. 

 

“Jimmy, please,” he panted, letting out a whimper as James moaned against him. 

 

James wasted no time, gripping Shepard’s cock and giving a few quick, firm strokes. John’s entire body constricted as his orgasm rocked him. He cried out, pressing his face deeper into the pillow beneath him, muscles spasming and leaving him weak. There was no way he had the energy to help James with what he was convinced was a massive hard on. When the younger man gasped in his ear, seeking breathless permission to fuck him, all John could do was nod pitifully and moan as James entered him. 

 

He couldn’t ever remember feeling so full, so sated in his life, and as his lover rolled his hips forward and thrust deep into him, he uttered another long string of curses. It felt so good, John couldn’t keep quiet, and James moved faster to a litany of  _ yes _ and _ please _ and  _ more. _ Though he couldn’t hope to come again, it didn’t stop him from enjoying what James was doing. The younger man faltered, hips stilling as his climax was ripped from his body. Soft kisses and whispered  _ I love yous _ were punctuated by harsh breaths as both men fought for air. John turned his head enough to capture his lover’s lips in an awkward, messy kiss, and James moved off of him, allowing Shepard to curl himself into the man’s arms. 

 

**

 

The last two days had been heaven. John and James had holed up in a hotel room, and even James had agreed that showing their faces in public was a bad idea. Shepard could barely go take a shit without someone calling to ask a favor of him. There was no way they would have been able to enjoy any real time off if they’d tried to go out. 

 

Instead they stayed in, fucked like bunnies, slept late, and ordered room service. Shepard made up his mind that when the war was over, he’d propose to James. They’d get married, then move somewhere with a secluded beach where they could hide away from the rest of the galaxy and live like kings for the rest of their lives. Well, maybe not like kings, but at least they’d be free of the responsibilities of war. Shepard had every intention of telling the Alliance to suck it when the war was over. He was done playing the hero. It came with too little pay and too many sleepless nights. 

 

Back on the ship, the war resumed its status as an oppressive weight around John’s neck. James watched the millstone of responsibility pull Shepard’s shoulders down, crease his brow, and keep him up with work or nightmares for nights on end. He worked his own ass off, trying to alleviate even a smidgen of the stress from Shepard’s life. John was good at putting on a brave face, but James saw the chinks in Shepard’s armor in the dead of night when he thought no one was looking. 

 

The  _ Normandy _ raced across the galaxy, rescuing quarians and recruiting both the nomadic aliens and their AI creations, the geth, for the war effort. They discovered a living Prothean in some ruins on Eden Prime, and just when James thought they’d seen and done it all, they discovered an ancient sea-dwelling race that laid claim to being responsible - if inadvertently - for the creation of the reapers in the first place. 

 

John’s patience was wearing thin, as was his energy level. He’d taken to falling asleep at his desk mid-report, and James had begun just leaving him there, because every time he tried to move the Commander to his bed, John awoke and got right back to work. He enlisted Williams’ help to take some of the pressure off Shepard, but John would only relinquish so much responsibility before he started reining it back in, placing it back upon his own shoulders.

 

It was frustrating and even a little heartbreaking. James wanted to be there for Shepard, but the man was slowly shutting him out. They’d sunk to a point where lovemaking was a thing that never happened, and any intimacy they experienced was little more than quick fucks, usually in the shower, to alleviate stress and release the static pressure building up in their balls. John assured him that he still loved him, and James believed him. Shepard had never lied to him before, but it didn’t lessen the sting of rejection he was beginning to feel every time John walked out the door to their quarters without so much as a backward glance. 

 

Feeling somewhat sullen and unable to shake the disquiet he felt over the turn in their relationship, James made his way to the mess hall. He was craving something comfortable and familiar to soothe his troubled soul. He thought of his  _ abuela _ and the nights she’d spent consoling him as a child - through the sorrow of his mother’s death and the pain of his father’s rejection. His  _ abuela _ had been his strength and hope when the world threatened to overwhelm him as a child, and he missed her. 

 

He knew that some part of Johnny still blamed himself for what happened to her and his uncle, but James never had. Maybe if he’d never fallen in love with John Shepard, they would still be alive, but maybe not. The reapers would have come regardless, and in the perilous times during which they lived, there were no guarantees. In a bizarre way, not having to worry about their safety now was a relief. 

 

_ Huevos Rancheros _ had always been his favorite meal. His  _ abuela _ would prepare it for him when he was sick or upset, and it had always been his go-to comfort food. Finding some eggs of unknown origin and some tomato sauce in the ship’s galley, he set to work preparing the dish, drawing comfort from the familiar motions of the task.

 

“That smells amazing,” John’s voice, low and husky, sounded in his ear as his arms wound around James’ waist. 

 

The younger man sighed in relief at the feel of John pressed up close against his back. It had been so damn long since they’d done so much as hug just for the hell of it. “Thanks,” he murmured, trying to concentrate on what he was doing so that he didn’t burn anything. 

 

“Got enough for me?” 

 

“Only if you promise to sit down and eat with me,” James said, casting a scolding look over his shoulder. “You’ve been running yourself ragged lately, Loco.” 

 

“I promise,” John said softly, lips tickling the shell of James’ ear. “I’m sorry. I’ve really missed you.” 

 

It was all James could do not to moan when John’s fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt. He cast a glance around the mess hall and found it deserted. Maybe John had threatened anyone who interrupted them, but whatever the case may be, he wasn’t going to complain about having Shepard to himself. 

 

Shepard’s hands rested on James’ belly, not turning the gesture into anything sexual, just holding onto his lover as if his life depended upon the act. James appreciated that. While sex with Shepard was always phenomenal, he honestly missed the simple gestures of affection more. John seemed to realize this, and pressed a tender kiss to the hinge of James’ jaw. 

 

“Hackett ordered the  _ Normandy _ to the Citadel for some shore leave,” he said. “Anderson’s giving me an apartment.” 

 

James froze, feeling stunned, before he remembered to keep his attention focused on the task at hand. 

 

“Need some help?” Shepard asked.

 

“Nuh-uh… I need you to stay right where you are, Johnny-boy.” 

 

John chuckled and nuzzled James’ neck with his nose. “Yes, sir.” 

 

James shivered. “So what are we going to do with this apartment all to ourselves?” 

 

“I have a few ideas,” John assured him, “but first, let’s eat. I’m starved.” Laughing, James filled the plates with the eggs and the savory sauce. As he passed Shepard a plate, the older man brushed their lips together. “Love you, Jimmy,” he sighed. “I’m sorry these last few weeks have been so crazy. I’ll make it up to you when we get back to the Citadel.” 

 

“You don’t have anything to make up to me, Johnny. Just… don’t shut me out, okay? Let me be here for you. You’re not invincible, you know?” 

 

“I know.” 

 

“Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

 

“Let’s go upstairs so we can have some privacy. I’m honestly surprised we’ve been left alone for this long.” 

 

They talked all through dinner, just like in the beginning stages of their relationship. It almost felt normal - well, as normal as anything had ever felt with Shepard. The man had a knack for flipping  _ normal _ on its head and shaking until everything he touched was left irreversibly changed in his wake. James Vega was no exception to this rule. 

 

When their meal was complete, John dragged James into the shower and washed him, lovingly - reverently - then they fell into bed and Shepard made love to him for hours. Nothing of the kind had happened since their last shore leave, and when Johnny drifted off to sleep in his arms, James felt a deep, abiding peace that he hoped would never go away. 

 

**

 

Waking with Shepard’s warm body still curled around him was a welcome surprise. EDI announcing that the Commander had an urgent message in his inbox was not. John groaned and kissed a lazy trail up James’ neck before sighing and rolling out of bed. He slipped into his boxer briefs but nothing else, and staggered toward his terminal, digging the sleep out of his eyes with a fist. 

 

A moment later, John cursed vehemently and called James to his side. The two of them stared at the message on the screen with equal parts shock and fury. 

 

_ Nice try Shepard, but you haven’t beaten me yet. You want to know who killed your boy toy’s family, meet me in the alley behind the old Chora’s Den at 2400. Come alone, or you’ll never find me. Don’t keep me waiting, Shepard. I have a nice long list of your friends and associates needing a bullet in the brain. If you take too long, they’ll be next. And don’t think your lover is safe just because he’s on the Normandy. _

 

_ 2400 Shepard. Don’t be late. _


	7. Chapter 7

James had a bad feeling about this whole thing. It wasn’t that he didn’t think Shepard could handle himself, but whoever this person was, they were obviously crazy, and good at what they did. They’d managed to find Shepard in Vancouver and make an attempt on his life, take down a public transport shuttle, killing dozens of innocents, and convince a group of batarian terrorists to work with them. James was afraid that was just scratching the surface. It was impossible to tell exactly how many deaths or unexplained crimes could be attributed to these psychopaths. 

 

As always, though, Shepard was determined to go through with this damned fool idea. James watched, feeling like a hovering mother, as John strapped himself into his armor. So much for fucking shore leave. He tried not to be bitter about the whole thing, but besides the fact that they had more important things to deal with - like humongous sentient machines with deadly laser cannons - he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t just selfish enough to want to keep John to himself for a little while longer. 

 

Their time together had been sparse and, unfortunately, mostly utilitarian since their last shore leave. James wanted to take advantage of having Shepard’s undivided attention and an apartment in which every surface needed christening and defiling in new and nefarious ways. The anticipated sexcapades would have to wait for now, though. 

 

James didn’t want to pin all of his hopes on the future, but he couldn’t help letting his mind wander to something John had said a couple months back. Remembering Rio, the time they spent there, the first time he and Shepard had ever had sex, made him long for things gone by, and filled him with yearning for a future that involved Shepard and bottles of tequila, dancing to ancient and cheesy songs on a sandy shore while listening to the waves crash and inhaling the lingering scent of coconut oil on Johnny’s skin. 

 

Maybe, when all was said and done, he’d propose to Shepard on that beach, and they’d marry, retire, adopt a dog and maybe a kid or two. It was hard to imagine John Shepard settling down, but James let his mind meander in the fantasy for awhile before the sound of John’s Widow shucking into its holster brought him crashing back into burdensome reality. 

 

James looked over all the seals on Shepard’s armor, mostly as an excuse to delay the man for a few moments longer. 

 

“I’ll be fine, Jimmy,” Shepard said, sensing his thoughts. Turning Shepard to face him, James gripped his cheeks, kissed him with a bruising force that left no doubts as to the love and fear he felt in this moment. These terrorists had already taken his grandmother and uncle from him. 

 

“Don’t let them take you, Johnny-boy,” he voiced, the words tumbling out on a choked whisper. 

 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” John promised, kissing him once more, tender and warm and full of hope. But the moment EDI announced that Shepard was no longer aboard the ship, James knew they’d made a terrible mistake. 

 

**

 

John waited impatiently at the rendezvous, checking his chrono every five minutes. 2433. He cursed and paced the cramped space. His mind began to race with every conceivable way that this could go wrong. A sudden thought had him spinning on a heel to race back toward the ship.  _ Don’t think your lover is safe just because he’s on the Normandy, _ the note had said. 

 

His heart plummeted to his feet, but just as he rounded the corner that would take him out of the alley and to the skycar stand, a group of armed mercs stepped out of the shadows. There were too many for him to take on his own, and he knew that had been by design. Shepard was good, but even he had his limits. 

 

“Going somewhere, Shepard?” the leader of the group asked. All their faces were masked, their armor bland and without descriptor. They could almost blend right in with C-sec, and John realized that that was precisely what they meant to do. 

 

“Took you long enough,” he said, voice full of a bravado he didn’t feel at the moment. These mercs were going to take him. Of that he had no doubt. First he had to know if Jimmy was still safe aboard the Normandy. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” 

 

“Fuck you, Shepard,” the one in charge practically spat. “I’m not here to make nice.” 

 

“Why are you here then?” 

 

“My boss wants to meet with you.” 

 

“Fine. Give me the coordinates, and the  _ Normandy _ and I will be on our way.” 

 

“You must take us for a pack of fools,” the man said with a dry chuckle.

 

“The thought had occurred to me, yes.” 

 

One of the lackeys on his side stepped forward, hand on his gun, but the leader stopped him, grabbing his arm and yanking him back behind the proverbial line in the sand. Shepard figured he’d pressed his luck long enough and pulled his Carnifex off his hip, putting the eager beaver out of his misery. He managed to get off three more shots before being gang tackled to the ground. In the confusion, he activated his tactical cloak and slipped away from the fracas only to trip over one of the goons’ feet and land right back in the same mess he’d just come out of. 

 

By the time they had him restrained, five of the mercs were dead, and the leader had a gunshot wound in his leg. Limping and cursing for all he was worth, the man grabbed Shepard by the neck of his armor and dragged him off the floor. “You’ve made some important people very unhappy,” the man growled.

 

“I excel at that,” Shepard said with a cheeky grin. 

 

“Watch yourself, Spectre, or you’ll go back to your ship to find your boyfriend with a new hole in his head!” 

 

Shepard snarled and headbutted the man. Probably not the wisest course of action given the way his head swam afterward. But it was enough to stagger the merc, giving John another opportunity to elbow out of the hold he was in. His hands were bound behind his back, but hell, he’d been in worse situations before. That changed rather swiftly when he felt the prick of an injector in his neck. 

 

“Not so tough now, are you Shepard?” 

 

The words were comically slow as the world spun out of focus, and all John could think was that he hoped he hadn’t just signed James’ death warrant, too. 

 

**

 

James paced the area between the elevator and the galaxy map, chin in his hand, and a furrowed-brow look of concentration on his face. He was so absorbed in his worrying that he failed to notice Traynor’s curious glances or Ashley’s short-tempered sighs. 

 

“Vega, will you just relax?” Williams asked in a huff. “You’re going to wear a hole through the floor. Shepard knows how to handle himself.” 

 

Though Williams outranked him, James had been the de facto executive officer for the  _ Normandy _ since boarding it after Mars. Shepard hadn’t bothered to update the crew manifest, and Williams hadn’t tried to shove her rank about to get the promotion. The truth was that she was plenty busy with her Spectre duties and helping lessen Shepard’s load by writing reports for him. Also with ramming her tongue down Joker’s throat at night in the starboard lounge, but no one was supposed to know about that. Everyone did, though.

 

James had sensed a little something brewing between the pair during their nights at Moody’s back in Vancouver. It seemed like a whole other lifetime ago, but in reality, it had been less than six months since Shepard had been his prisoner. Hard to believe that that parody of justice was the happiest and most carefree time of their relationship so far. It just made him long for an end to the fighting so that he and John could get back to the business of living. But it seemed that every time he let his mind drift into the realm of future possibility, reality popped back up and slapped him in the face. 

 

“Lieutenant Vega,” EDI said from above, “Commander Shepard has just left the Citadel. He was unconscious when he boarded the shuttle.” 

 

“What?!”

 

“I would like to amend my previous announcement to say that Commander Shepard has just been abducted. I do not believe he would be capable of willingly boarding a shuttle while asleep.” 

 

“You _ think _ ?” James’ heart thundered in his chest, threatening to break free; even Williams looked panicked. He had to stop and think about procedure here. What was the best way to go about getting John back? What would Shepard do in his shoes? “Traynor, work with EDI on tracking that shuttle. Williams, can you use your Spectre codes to hack the cameras in the alley behind the Den?” Ashley gave him a curt nod and set to work. “Vakarian, Javik, suit up. Everyone meet in the war room in fifteen.” 

 

“That almost looks like C-sec armor,” Garrus commented as they watched the vid feed that Ashley had procured. Shepard had put up a hell of a fight, but James saw the exact moment that his body went limp from some sort of narcotic injection. He saw red. Whoever the hell these people were, they’d just pissed off the wrong man. 

 

“The shuttle originated from Omega,” Traynor finally announced. “We have every reason to believe it was returning to the Omega Nebula when it left here.” 

 

“Probably to lead us on a wild goose chase,” Ashley said, fire burning in her eyes. 

 

“You got any other leads,  _ Princessa _ ?” 

 

Ashley scowled at James for the use of the nickname, but the lieutenant was unperturbed. He watched with his arms crossed over his chest until she deflated, shaking her head solemnly. 

 

“Scars, Buggy, you’re with me,” he announced. “Everyone else stay on top of this and get me every scrap of information you can by the time I get back.” 

 

“Where are you going?” Ashley asked. 

 

“To talk to the one person who knows what’s going on on Omega better than anyone else.” 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Aria looked none too pleased at being disturbed by a relative nobody. Only the fact that she happened to know that Shepard was fucking him, as she’d so charmingly put it, had gained James access to her throne. Her brow arched in disdain as she regarded him, but James had a good poker face. He could bluff and bluster with the best of them. Hell, he was dating John Shepard - the king of the bullshitters. 

 

“Let me guess,” Aria began, and James went for a menacing stare as he watched her. “Your fuck buddy has gone missing, and now you want my help to get him back. Does that about sum it up?” 

 

“Watch yourself, Aria. I’ve been polite since I walked up here. No reason we can’t be civil.” 

 

“Oh my… well, I can certainly see what Shepard sees in you.” Her slimy gaze raked over his body, and James suppressed a shiver. He didn’t rise to her bait, however, simply watched her with a carefully neutral expression. Aria’s face didn’t give much away, but he saw it in her eyes the moment she relented. “I like your spunk, Vega,” she said at length, “so I’m going to help you. But first… you’re going to have to help me with something. I’d intended to ask for Shepard’s help with this, but as he’s no doubt been too busy with… whatever it is the two of you get up to when you’re alone, he has yet to come by to talk to me about it.” 

 

James’ eyes narrowed in warning. He was about tired of her assertions that what he had with Shepard was nothing more than cheap sex, but he held his tongue. Unless Liara or Williams could come up with a better lead while he was here wasting time with Aria T’loak, then he’d be stuck dealing with the asari until she either tired of him or he found what he was looking for. Hopefully, those two events would coincide with one another. He raised an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for more details on what this devil’s bargain was going to cost him. 

 

“Meet my man, Bray, at these coordinates,” she said, raising her arm and tapping a message on her omnitool. “I trust you to conduct yourself with the utmost decorum and secrecy on this matter.  _ Don’t _ disappoint me.” 

 

He’d been around the block enough times to know a dismissal when he heard one. With a curt nod, he turned to walk away. 

 

“Oh,” Aria called to him before he was out of earshot. “Leave your pets at home, hm?” She gestured at Garrus and Javik, who looked less than impressed with her pronouncement, but the trio left Purgatory before a scene could be made. James didn’t know how Javik would take to being called a pet, but he figured it was about the same as the rest of them felt when he referred to them as  _ primitives _ . 

 

“Go back to the ship and see what Ash and Doc have dug up,” he ordered. “I’ll go meet with this Bray.” 

 

“We’re wasting time,” Garrus hissed. 

 

“You think I don’t know that?” James said, voice hard as flint. “Trust me, I have a more personal stake in this than any of you, but Johnny wouldn’t want us falling apart. I’m damn well not going to let him down.”

 

Garrus stared at the ward arms in front of them for a moment, and James knew the turian was gathering his thoughts. Shepard meant a lot to a lot of people. This was hard on all of them, but if any of the crew thought for one damned second that James was going to give up this fight, they had another thing coming. The turian seemed to come to the same conclusion, and nodded swiftly before gesturing for Javik to follow him toward the elevator. 

 

James took a skycar to the coordinates Aria had sent. He wasn’t sure what was up with all the cloak and dagger bullshit, but if it helped him get closer to Shepard, he’d jump through any hoop. As it turned out, Aria had been ousted from Omega by none other than Cerberus. That was bad, but waging a private war to help Aria take back her place on the junk heap wasn’t something he looked forward to doing. If Shepard were safe aboard the  _ Normandy _ , he had no doubt that John would foolishly stick his neck out for the likes of Aria T’loak for nothing more than a few two-cred mercs and mountains of eezo. James knew they had to do all that they could for the war effort, but he didn’t see how compromising their standards by jumping into bed with the asari pirate was going to help matters. 

 

If they sacrificed morality and conscience in order to win the war, then they’d already lost. What they ended up with when all was said and done wouldn’t be worth the price paid to get it. James knew this in his heart of hearts. At the same time, he was fully aware that if Cerberus was left unchecked, running amok in the Omega Nebula, they could wreak havoc on the allied forces actually trying to  _ stop _ the reapers. He had no idea what the Illusive Man’s game was, but it was abundantly clear that they were not on the same side. 

 

In the end it was a moot point. To help Aria, or not to help Aria. How did either of those things get him any closer to Shepard? James left his meeting with Bray feeling forlorn, and they were back at square one. Without concrete evidence that Shepard was on Omega, James wouldn’t risk taking the  _ Normandy _ there. And the fact that Aria wanted him to go alone, without the crew as backup, sent red flags flying all over the place. 

 

Aria T’loak was not to be trusted, but this game of cat and mouse she wanted to play had already cost them too much time. Shepard’s captors would keep him alive for awhile - James hoped - but they wouldn’t wait for his friends forever. And suppose James was wrong. Suppose all they wanted was Shepard in the first place. Would they kill him outright? Torture him first? 

 

James’ mind screamed in rage and fear as he raced back toward the  _ Normandy _ . He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to John. All he could do now was hope the team had turned up something. 

 

They hadn’t. 

 

Well, nothing good anyway. Nothing that would keep him from having to cooperate with Aria. He wondered briefly if she’d had a hand in abducting Shepard, but quickly dismissed the notion. The asari wanted Shepard, not James, to help her retake Omega. He felt a little like sloppy seconds, but he knew that wasn’t the case. Shepard was a legend, notorious for his fighting ability. James was a valued crew member of the  _ Normandy _ , but not everyone knew that, and no one, not even Shepard, knew about the invitation he’d gotten to attend training at the Villa when the war was over. 

 

There was an odd mixture of pride and sadness at the accomplishment. The invitation was dated the same day the reapers had invaded. It was signed by both Hackett and Anderson. John wasn’t the type to show favoritism, so James knew Shepard would be just as surprised as he’d been. He only hoped he got the chance to share the news with John. 

 

“The shuttle definitely docked on Omega,” Traynor informed him as soon as he cleared decon and stepped onto the bridge. 

 

“Fuck,” he spat.

 

“Shall I set course?” Joker asked, just as antsy to get Shepard back as the rest of them were. 

 

“No can do. Omega is under siege by Cerberus,” he said. “Tell everyone to assemble in the war room. We’ve got some decisions to make.” 

 

**

 

“This is a foolish risk, human,” Javik said, all his usual contempt for lesser beings present in his voice. 

 

“What other choice do we have?” Ashley said. “We don’t know who has him or why. Shepard would take the risk and go to Omega.” 

 

“What makes you so sure?” Garrus asked, crossing his arms across his chest the way Shepard often did. 

 

“Look at who we’re talking about,” Tali interjected. “Shepard would risk anything to save one of his crew.” 

 

“Shepard would trust us to make a rational decision,” Liara countered.

 

“I’m going,” James said quietly. The crew could argue about it until the reapers keeled over of boredom. It didn’t bring them any closer to finding Shepard, and James wasn’t about to give the man he loved up to torture and death. It wasn’t going to happen. The crew was perfectly capable of carrying on in both his and Shepard’s stead. 

 

All eyes in the room were on him, all in silent agreement, though they didn’t want to voice their thoughts. “Williams, you’re in charge until Shepard and I get back. You can clean up some of these nagging little thorns in our side - the fuel reactor Hackett warned us about, the fighter squadron on Noveria. Answer any calls that seem important enough to be dealt with, and try to delegate some of the less urgent shit onto a different crew. Be listening for my signal though, and the minute I give the all-clear, haul ass to Omega.” 

 

“Aye, sir,” Williams said, snapping a salute. James almost grinned at it, but refrained. 

 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, and hopefully I’ll have Shepard with me.” 

 

“Good luck, LT,” Ashley said, and James drew a steadying breath before leaving the crew to it. 

 

**

 

Aria T’loak was either brilliant or psychotic - possibly a little of both. James didn’t have time to try to figure it out. All he could do was brace himself as their cruiser prepared to ram the station. 

 

“We gotta get to the escape pods, Aria,” he reasoned. “There won’t be a ground assault if we all die in this crash!” 

 

“Ugh… fine… Everyone to the escape pods.” 

 

James muttered curses under his breath as he tried to herd the crew toward the pods. If he got himself hurt or killed on this mission, John would never forgive him. He didn’t know of any other way to get onto the station, however. All he could do now was pray that this harebrained scheme worked. If they could run Cerberus off of Omega, then the  _ Normandy _ could come and help him find John. That was the only thing he cared about. 

 

It felt like days of fighting, but James knew the reality was only hours. Still, by the time they finished mopping up the Cerberus troops, he felt farther away from Shepard than he’d ever been. The station was clear, but he had no way of knowing how to find John. 

 

He listened as Aria choked the life out of the Cerberus General. John would probably have insisted that the man live, but he had Aria’s mercs and her eezo. Making an enemy of Aria T’loak wasn’t worth the price of the General’s information. He wasn’t prepared for the asari to try to kiss him when it all was said and done, though. 

 

“I hope you show more enthusiasm when Shepard kisses you,” Aria smirked. 

 

“The difference is I actually  _ want _ him to kiss me,” James snapped. “You’ve a lot of fucking nerve.” He scrubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. 

 

“Well, I guess we’d better find him for you, so you can make that happen,” she said with something almost like kindness. “Bray, take this shuttle transponder and figure out where it went.” Turning back to James, she smiled coolly. “Thank you for your assistance, Lieutenant Vega. I believe our business is concluded.” 


	9. Chapter 9

The transponder led them to an abandoned dock in the slums of Omega, and James cursed vehemently as he slammed his fist into the wall. They were running out of time. Shepard had been missing for more than twenty four hours at this point, and he didn’t know how much longer these kidnappers would wait. A sick sense of dread settled into his gut, and he sent up a quick prayer for John’s safety to any diety that would listen.

 

“Fan out and search,” he told the crew, voice hoarse with emotion. “Maybe these bastards left something for us.” 

 

The entire ground team had insisted on coming along. James had wondered briefly if he should leave some of them behind in case someone came to take the ship itself, but unlike when the Normandy had belonged to Cerberus, this crew were all trained marines and soldiers. Between EDI and the ones he’d left in charge, he felt fairly confident that the ship would be alright. 

 

James couldn’t figure what John’s captors were after. There had been no ransom notes, no demands. The fact that they kept stringing them along with false clues suggested that they wanted the crew to find them. Maybe even just James. 

 

“I’ve got something,” Garrus called from the other side of the room, and everyone hustled over to where he stood with a datapad in his hand. Solemnly, he passed it to Vega who took it gingerly. With a sigh, he flicked it on to play the recorded message. 

 

Shepard sat in a straight backed chair, hands tied behind his back, head hanging limply to the side. His face appeared battered and bloodied, what little could be seen of it, and he’d been stripped down to just the lower half of his under armor, chest and torso displaying a dizzying array of bruises and cuts. 

 

A figure in the same nondescript armor as before appeared and lifted Shepard’s head to face the camera. The damage was worse than it had originally seemed, and they all took a collective gasp. Both John’s eyes were nearly swollen shut. Tears mingled with blood trickled from them both, but James could still see the faint twinkle of blue as he tried to open them. His lips were busted and puffy, but he still made an attempt to mumble something indecipherable. “Jim…. don… just… lo… oo…” John’s head flopped back down, chin to his chest, when the merc released him. 

 

“Better hurry, lover boy,” the merc said. “He won’t wait forever.” 

 

“EDI, can you get me anything off this?” James growled as the screen went dark. 

 

“A navpoint has been encrypted into the file. I believe the sender meant for us to find it.” 

 

“Which means they’re waiting for us,” Ash said. 

 

“I still don’t understand what they are after,” Tali chimed in.

 

“This seems personal,” Garrus offered. “They want to hurt Shepard, obviously.”

 

“But what the hell do they want with me?” James asked in frustration. “Why the chase?” 

 

Liara sighed heavily. “What would hurt Shepard more than to see the man he loves in pain?” 

 

“So we go without him,” Javik said, holstering his signature particle rifle.

 

“Like hell,” James said. “I’m going to get him. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cower.”

 

“If they get you,” Williams began, “then they’ll kill you. They win.”

 

“And if he doesn’t show, they’ll probably just kill Shepard and get it over with,” Garrus supplied. “We have to be careful about how we approach this.” 

 

“We can figure it out aboard the ship,” James said, heading for the door and calling Cortez for a pick up. 

 

**

 

Shepard tried to blink his eyes only to find them stuck closed. It felt like he’d been run through a meat grinder, his body sore in places he wasn’t even aware existed. Every cut and bruise pulled when he tried to move, and dried crusty blood clung to his skin like a bandage. 

 

In short - he felt like complete and utter shit. 

 

Without his eyes he couldn’t be sure, but he sensed that he wasn’t alone. Slowing his mind and drawing on his training, he listened until he could make out the steady inhale-exhale of at least two more occupants in the room. Guards if he had to guess. 

 

Time was tricky. He had no idea how long he’d been here, but it really didn’t matter. Whatever his captors were waiting for, his gut told him they wouldn’t wait much longer. However long he’d been here - days, he suspected - they’d come in periodically and beat him almost senseless before drugging him again. 

 

They’d never even asked him any questions. 

 

In the past, whenever anyone had tried to keep him sedated, they’d had to periodically raise the dosages to keep him under. He wondered if it was the same this time, figuring it probably was. If his guards knew he was awake, he was sure another round of beatings would follow soon. Since they weren’t, that obviously meant they weren’t expecting the drugs to have worn off yet. 

 

He forced his eyes open, blinking at the harsh light from the single bulb dangling from the ceiling. How cliche could they be? Without moving his head, he took in as much of his surroundings as he could. A small room, the chair he occupied the only piece of furniture to be seen. The guards stood on either side of the door, staring at the opposite wall, looking bored out of their minds. 

 

He didn’t envy them. Keeping watch over an unconscious prisoner wasn’t high on the list of ways he wanted to pass an afternoon, or three. He felt no pity for them, though. They’d chosen their side. 

 

As entertaining as it was to contemplate the life choices of thugs and hired goons, Shepard knew he had a more pressing issue - how in the hell he was going to get out of this predicament. Despite the fact that he’d tried to warn James away in the vid recordings his captors had forced him to make, he knew the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t listen. James would come for him, no matter the risks, but if Shepard didn’t do something soon, there wouldn’t be anything left of him to save. 

 

Having the guards think he was still asleep was of utmost importance. If they saw him moving, they’d attack, probably call for backup in the process, but if he could take them out of the picture before that happened, it would give him time to come up with a plan of escape. 

 

The cuffs that bound him were old and cheap, but still charged with an electric current that made them nearly impossible to break or pick. Nearly. His omnitool was missing - no surprise there - which would complicate any plans he could make, but he was an Infiltrator, an N7, and a Spectre. He’d been trained to get out of situations like this in his sleep. 

 

The only thing he underestimated was how sore his entire body was from the abuse he’d suffered. Still, he only had one shot at this. 

 

Hands free, he cracked an eye open to be sure the guards were still distracted, then made his move. Launching himself out of the chair, he only stumbled a little as his ribs pulled sharply. They were likely broken, but there wasn’t time to do a full assessment of the damage just yet. 

 

The first guard fell to the floor with a snapped neck, and Shepard rounded on the next one just as he was pulling up his omnitool to call for help. Batting his hands away, Shepard jabbed him in the neck with two fingers, hard enough to momentarily choke him. He followed the move with headbutt to the nose, and the guard staggered backward, hands scrambling desperately for the bleeding orifice. John swooped in for the kill, snapping the man’s neck as he’d done for the other guard, then sank to the floor with his back to the wall.

 

Breathing was labored, and he was more sure than ever of his broken ribs. Taking the time to rest wasn’t a luxury he could afford, however, so he quickly pulled on the armor that was most likely to fit him, stealing the other guard’s omnitool and weapon before picking his pockets clean. 

 

There was a grate in the ceiling, and Shepard wasn’t sure whether that was a stroke of luck for him due to the arrogance of his captors or if it was simply another trap. Not knowing when the shift change would occur or what was lurking in the hallway outside his cell, he took the chance, pushing his chair under the grate and forcing it open before hauling himself up into the ventilation shaft. 

 

He landed with a grunt of pain, tears springing into his eyes. “Motherfucker,” he hissed through his teeth. Dialing up the omnitool he’d stolen, he quickly administered a dose of pilfered medigel, then drank some of the water the guard had had in a canteen on his belt. 

 

Exploring the omnitool, he discovered that outside communications had been cut off - no surprise there - but he was able to call up a map of the facility where he was being held. His head began to swim from the overexertion after being sedated and probably starved for days on end. There hadn’t been any ration packs on either of the guards though. With the map, he located the armory and made his way toward it. Without knowing how many troops these mercs had, it was impossible to know what to expect. He only knew that the two scuffed up pistols and the handful of thermal clips he had now weren’t going to be enough. 

 

Inching his way through the ducts, he tried to remain as quiet as possible. If the mercs heard him rattling around up there, they’d probably just kill him outright. “Jimmy, I hope to god you’re on your way,” he muttered into the darkness before him. Time was running out.

 

**

 

The  _ Normandy _ hopped from system to system, following the instructions in the messages at every stop - from the Omega Nebula to the Caleston Rift; Caleston to the Shadow Sea; Shadow Sea to the Kepler Verge. On and on until James thought he’d lose his fucking mind. Every time their hopes were dashed, the crew’s fear spiraled just a bit more out of control. 

 

Everyone was on edge. Tempers began to flare, and every small issue that arose on the ship was potential for blow out of apocalyptic magnitude. James avoided the Captain’s cabin like the plague, unable to look at the still-rumpled bed where John had last slept. 

 

Shepard had been gone for three days, and from the vid messages the kidnappers had left at each bogus stop, it didn’t look like he could survive much longer. Not knowing what was going on was the hardest part. Were they interrogating him? Beating him for shits and giggles? What the hell were they after? And why the goose chase?

 

He needed to get his shit together. He was the de facto leader in Shepard’s absence. He couldn’t afford to let his personal feelings for John get in the way of this mission. At the same time, it was getting harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other every minute that Shepard was away from the ship. The war needed Shepard - the Spectre and the hero. The galaxy needed him. The ship needed him. And James needed him more than any of those put together. 

 

A steaming mug of coffee appeared in front of James’ face, and he looked up to see Liara standing there with a kind smile. He liked the asari, despite the fact that it was evident to all that she had a crush on John. Shepard was her friend first, enough for her to want him to be happy, even if that meant it wasn’t with her. 

 

“You look like you could use the boost,” she said, and he thanked her before taking a sip of the scalding liquid. 

 

He focused his attention back on the maps in front of him, wondering where this chase was leading them. If they had any clue about what the mercs were after, it might help them put the pieces together and skip some of this fucking pointless, time-wasting bullshit. 

 

“I can’t understand why my network has found no trace of Shepard,” Liara said beside him, drawing his focus back to her. 

 

“They probably took Shepard straight from the Citadel to wherever they’re holding him and sent mercs to drop those datapads off in prearranged locations,” James stated. 

 

“But the transponder code from the shuttle that left with him ends on Omega.”

 

“And we have no way of knowing whether or not they stopped mid-flight to transfer him to another vessel,” James pointed out. “Which is more than likely what they did.” 

 

“Unless he’s been on Omega this whole time.” 

 

James shook his head. “Doubtful. Aria T’loak probably doesn’t feel like she owes me a damned thing, but don’t you think she would have let us know if she’d found evidence of his being there? She knows the score like the rest of us. There’s no way in hell we win this thing without Shepard, and say what you will about Aria, she wants to win. Make no mistake about that.” 

 

Liara sighed and rubbed her temples.

 

“Headache, Doc?” 

 

“No, just… frustrated.” 

 

“Join the fucking club,” James muttered, studying his maps once more. “If we just had some idea of what the hell they wanted...” 

 

“Garrus said it sounded personal,” Liara mused beside him. “Whoever has Shepard has attacked your family, attacked the Alliance. They’ve kidnapped Shepard and obviously tortured him, but for what?” 

 

“To see him suffer,” James spat. “Whoever the fuck this person is, I am going to  _ personally _ see to it that they die in just as much agony as John has been in this whole goddamned time.” 

 

He flinched at the gentle feel of Liara’s hand on his arm. “I know how hard this is for you, James,” she said, softly, “but we need to set that aside for the moment. Think about the clues they  _ have _ given us. If we can bypass the next few false leads, we’ll have the advantage of time and surprise on our side.” 

 

James nodded and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. He knew she was right. He was just so damned tired… and scared. What if-

 

“EDI, overlay this map with the ship’s trajectory since Shepard went missing,” Liara’s voice broke him out of his train of thought. 

 

“Is there any way you can extrapolate where this might be leading us?” James asked with a sigh. They’d been through all this before. Everything they’d tried up to now had led them to more questions than answers.

 

“I am sorry, James, but I cannot. There are literally thousands of destinations that could be reached by following our current course trajectory.” 

 

James cursed. “Thanks EDI. It was worth a shot.” 

 

Liara persisted, “What about places personal to Shepard? Anything from his past that might draw someone’s attention? A battle or…?”

 

“Comparing Normandy’s current trajectory with significant locations notated within Commander Shepard’s personnel file.”

 

James held his breath. Why the  _ fuck  _ hadn’t they thought of this before?

 

“I believe I have something.” 

 

The map in front of them lit up with a single red dot in the Voyager Cluster. A planet all of them were familiar with by now. 

 

Akuze.


	10. Chapter 10

Alarms were already blaring when they reached the base. James figured that could only mean one thing - John had escaped. Or was hopefully in the process. 

 

“Let’s move,” James hissed at Tali and Liara. He’d wanted to keep the team small to make it easier for them to move undetected. Tali’s technical skills and Liara’s biotics would be indispensable. Garrus and Ashley were covering the exits on the outside from their sniper perches, and Javik and EDI were both waiting to be called upon should the need arise. 

 

Tali made quick work of hacking an unguarded door, and Liara voiced James’ thoughts on the matter. 

 

“It’s odd that there were no guards at the door. It could mean this is a trap.” 

 

“Or that these  _ pendejos _ are too busy tracking Shepard to give a shit about us,” James said hopefully, though he knew that his suggestion was less likely. Whoever had done this, they’d planned it well, covering their tracks and even hiding from the Shadow Broker herself. That could only mean that they’d meant for James and the crew to find them eventually. The next logical assumption was that they’d wanted to lure them in before springing their trap. 

 

An uneasy feeling settled itself into James’ gut. In every message they’d found John had tried to say something, but his face had been so busted up that each attempt came out garbled, unintelligible. Could Shepard have been trying to warn them away? He had to know that James would come for him. As long as there was any breath left in his body, he would search and fight. John knew this, and maybe his captors did, too. 

 

Shepard’s comm signal had been scrambled from the moment he’d disappeared from the surveillance footage on the Citadel, so they were still flying dark. They knew he was somewhere within this building, but that didn’t narrow it down very much. If John had managed to escape - and James had to assume that’s just what he’d done - they couldn’t even head toward the cells they’d found in the schematics Tali had managed to snag. 

 

_ “Fuck,”  _ James muttered under his breath. Where would John be most likely to go? “Tali, get us to the shuttle bay.”

 

**

 

John’s head was swimming from lack of food and sleep combined with the lingering effects of physical trauma and injected narcotics. “If I live through this,” he muttered to himself as he threaded his way carefully through the maze of air ducts. 

 

The alarms had started blaring not long after his escape, and his captors had to know that he was in the ventilation system. It wasn’t as if they’d left him many options. Checking his stolen map, he found the medbay and headed there. 

 

Two guards were visible through the grate in the ceiling, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more. They probably bolstered the defenses here, figuring Shepard would seek access to medical supplies. Looking at his map again, he found the kitchen and made his way there, relieved to find it empty. Stealing the first aid kit, a handful of ration bars, and two bottles of water, he scurried back inside the ducts before anyone could see him. 

 

Another pair of guards entered the kitchen just as he closed the grate, and he strained to hear what they were saying.

 

“...squad of three, likely crew of the  _ Normandy _ .” 

 

“Fuck,” the other spat. “No way we’re gonna live through this.”

 

“If we can find and kill Shepard,” the first guard replied, “then we won’t have to worry about it. And maybe we’ll even get a raise.” 

 

“Or the boss will kill  _ us _ for spoiling his plans,” the second one said wryly. “Come on. He’s not here. I told you this was a stupid idea. We should have gone to medical.” 

 

The guards’ voices faded away as they marched off in the direction Shepard had just come. He devoured two of the ration bars, loading and administering more medigel between bites. Once he’d drank enough water to quench his thirst, he took off down the path toward the shuttle bay again. 

 

The words of the guards confirmed his suspicions. Not only were James and the crew here, but whoever the hell this ‘boss’ was, he wasn’t about to give up yet. Strength somewhat renewed by the food and medicine, Shepard decided maybe it was time to make a little noise - see if he couldn’t spring this trap. 

 

**

 

“I count five, maybe six.” 

 

“That we can see from here. I am certain there will be more inside.” 

 

“These bastards asked for a fight the moment they took Shepard. I say we give it to ‘em.” 

 

**

 

Shepard heard the scuffle before he could get to the shuttle bay, and knew that James and the team had fallen right into the kidnapper’s plans. It was the final fucking straw. Whoever the hell his captor was, he was as good as dead. 

 

As an infiltrator, John knew how to get into places unnoticed, but there were times when subtlety was unwarranted, when the situation called for just a bit more flare. This qualified, in his professional opinion. Activating two of the grenades he’d pinched off of the guards he’d killed on his way here, he gauged where they’d do the most damage without harming James, Tali, and Liara, who were tied up in the center of the room. 

 

He tossed the grenades through the doorway and waited for them to detonate before charging into the shuttle bay, gun at the ready to deal with any remaining enemies that stood between him and the crew. He was drawn up short by the sight of a man standing behind James, holding a pistol to his lover’s head. His heart stopped beating for a moment, fear and panic making him feel weaker than the abuse and malnourishment he’d been suffering for days. 

 

When he finally got a look at his captor’s face, his blood ran cold. “Toombs,” he said flatly. 

 

“Shepard. I’d think very carefully about my next move if I were you,” Toombs said, pushing the barrel of his pistol against James’ head. 

 

Shepard winced, but James’ face was impassive, the epitome of the perfectly trained soldier. John was equal parts proud and horrified. “What exactly is it that you want?” he asked as calmly as he could. 

 

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to suffer, Shepard.” 

 

“Fine. Let him go, and you can have me.” 

 

James’ eyes widened briefly, but he remained stoic and still. 

 

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere Shepard,” Toombs told him as two guards took hold of each of his arms. “I’m not done with you by a long shot, but first… I’m guessing the one thing that would hurt you most is to watch your lover die.” 

 

“Why are you doing this, Toombs? What’d I do to make you hate me so much?” John didn’t have a clue how the fuck they were going to get out of this. If he tried to break free, Toombs would simply shoot James and probably Tali and Liara as well. But if he could stall the inevitable, maybe he could also come up with some sort of plan. 

 

“You’ve forgotten the letter I sent you? Now that just hurts, Shepard.” 

 

John racked his brain, but couldn’t come up with any letters that Toombs had sent him. He deleted literally thousands of emails a day, and dealt with hundreds more. How was he supposed to recall one letter from one certifiable marine? 

 

“Cerberus!” Toombs raged, seeing that Shepard was still at a loss. “They ruined my life, and you helped them!” 

 

_ Fucking hell! _ “I’m sorry, Toombs. I wasn’t left with a lot of options,” John said carefully. “But we’re on the same side now. I’m fighting Cerberus and the Reapers both.  You should join me. I could use a soldier of your calibre on the  _ Normandy _ .” 

 

It’d be a cold day in hell before he let this raving loon anywhere near his ship, but Toombs didn’t need to know that. All he needed was an opening. 

 

Gunfire in the corridor outside drew all their attention, and Shepard seized the opportunity to buck his guards off and tackle Toombs to the ground. He punched the man in the jaw because the bastard had it coming, but Shepard still had the two guards behind him to worry about, not to mention the thundering footsteps that signalled the arrival of even more troops. 

 

Before he could turn to deal with the guards behind him, gunshots rang out in the cavernous room. Panicked, he turned to make sure James and the team were alright and saw the guards that had been holding him lying on the ground in growing pools of their own blood, gunshot wounds between both their eyes. 

 

“Shepard,” Garrus drawled. 

 

“Vakarian,” Shepard sighed, relieved. 

 

“When Jimmy here didn’t check in on time, I figured you guys could use a little help.” 

 

John laughed. “Hell, Garrus, I’ve never been religious, but damned if I didn’t need an Archangel right about now.” 

 

Ashley strolled up behind the turian with a smug grin. “Javik and EDI are clearing out the rest of the base,” she announced. 

 

“That just leaves this  _ pendejo _ ,” James ground out, turning as much as his restraints would allow to glare at Toombs. Shepard still had him pinned face down on the ground. 

 

Ashley worked to set the prisoners free, and James nearly jumped out of his chair to haul John into his arms. Shepard squawked a protest at the trauma to his definitely broken ribs, but James ignored that, needing to hold him, to feel his lips against his own. 

 

When the kiss ended, Shepard’s breathing was labored, but he managed to whisper. “I’m alright, Jimmy.” 

 

“You look like hell,” James said, fingers brushing against John’s bearded cheek. “And you need a shave.” Shepard laughed before clutching his side and wincing. “Broken ribs?” 

 

“A few, yeah.” 

 

James turned his attention to the cowering man on the floor, grabbing him by the collar to yank him off the floor. “I should break your fucking neck, you piece of shit! But you’re not even worth it.” 

 

“You sound like a krogan.” Shepard’s laugh was wheezy, and James couldn’t be bothered to worry with Toombs anymore. John’s health was the larger concern. Dropping the man on the floor again, he went to John, stopping dead in his tracks as another gunshot rang out. 

 

_ “Fuck.” _

 

James ignored the ruckus around them, eyes fixated on the crimson stain on his hand. 

 

“Jimmy,” Shepard croaked. 

 

Then the world went black. 

 

**

 

He would never understand why the lights in the medbay were such a glaring white. If a soldier wound up under these lights, he’d likely suffered enough trauma. The lights felt like insult to injury. 

 

Still, the fact that he was awake to bitch and groan about the lights in the first place was some sort of miracle. “Jimmy,” he tried. 

 

“Here, Johnny-boy.” 

 

John felt James’ large, rough hand slip into his, and relief, stark and profound, washed over him. His body ached all over, particularly his chest where the shot had passed through. By some divine miracle he’d survived the gunshot wound on Akuze, which meant he’d defied the odds on that planet twice now. “I lived,” he announced. 

 

“Barely,” James conceded, voice hoarse with emotion. “Please don’t do that shit again.” 

 

“No promises,” Shepard said with a grin.

 

James huffed a laugh, but there was little humor in it. 

 

“Toombs?” 

 

“Dead. Garrus killed him after he shot you.” 

 

The relief he felt was tinged with bitterness. Toombs had always been a little off his rocker, but John had called the man a friend once. He didn’t want to imagine what it would take to break someone so completely. After all he’d been through himself, it was a wonder that he was still able to function at all. But Shepard was nothing if not determined. Maybe Zaeed Massani had been right when he’d said that a stubborn enough person can survive anything. 

 

And he was stubborn, that was for damn sure. 

 

Peering into James’ eyes, he remembered an idle promise he’d made to himself not long ago. If they both survived this thing, he wanted to marry this man, to spend the rest of his life being a stubborn ass and trying to make up for it. Scaring James half to death then begging forgiveness. Showing him every day in a million little ways how completely and utterly in love he was with the man. 

 

Tears spilled down James’ cheeks, and he wondered what was going through his lover’s mind at the moment. Instead of asking him, he cupped Jimmy’s face in both his hands, the pads of his thumbs brushing away the errant tears before pulling him into a tender kiss. 

 

His heart thudded wildly in his chest, but he knew it was more than just the after effects of a near fatal gunshot wound. It was love and life and a wish for a future that would see him happy and in love for the remainder of his days. 

 

James closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and John thought the man was just about the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. When James’ eyes opened again, John blurted the only thing that it made sense for him to say in that instant.

 

“Marry me,” he said at the same instant that James whispered, “Let’s get married.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go! Thanks for sticking around and reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a bit of a different feel to it because it was originally meant to be a stand alone thing, but I've decided to go ahead and include it here in order to close out the saga for these boys. I hope you enjoy!

Shepard had never been much of a dreamer - too pragmatic and world-weary for such nonsense - but he could recall a scant handful of occasions in his life that could only be described as dream-like.  _ Dream come true _ was a sentiment reserved for stories, not reality, and Shepard was the last man in the galaxy who would ever be accused of being fanciful. Nevertheless, the events of the day possessed that hazy, artificial quality of a dream, waking up on the other side of it and not knowing whether or not the last feeling you felt was real or imaginary. 

 

James’ hand was tucked inside his own, fingers braided together as they strolled, barefoot, through the moonlight at the water’s edge. The ocean waves lapped at their ankles, sometimes ambitiously shooting higher, soaking their pants legs. Neither of them cared. The air was thick with the tangy, salty taste of the sea, and Shepard felt abundantly peaceful. And while he’d been forced to learn contentment at an early age, peace was a state of being never before achieved. It felt grand. It felt liberating. It felt  _ good. _

 

Beside him, James hummed happily, the cheesy song they’d danced to at Moody’s years ago when they’d first been falling in lust or love or whatever the sensation had been at the time. It was the same song they’d danced to earlier today - James guiding John through the steps to keep him from making an ass of himself on their wedding day. It was ridiculous, really, the song itself, but the memories and emotions it evoked were special. Shepard would grant his husband that much. 

 

Shepard was a husband now, himself. It was never a title he’d aspired to, nor thought to obtain, but he found that this new feat also carried a greater measure of peace than he’d ever realized that it could. Such a simple name for such a grandiose thing, and he was all at once overcome with the urge to kiss his newly-minted husband. So he did. James laughed into his mouth, carefree and light, and Shepard ate it up like it was candy. 

 

It was five years to the day since Shepard fired the crucible and ended the war. Since Anderson, EDI, and all the geth had died. Since Shepard had been recovered from beneath a crushing pile of debris that should have killed him. They’d waited all this time because Shepard was unwell for so very long. For the first year, the doctors could give no guarantees that Shepard would even survive his injuries. The second year Shepard spent in a state of perpetual mental fog, able to recall James’ name, but not recognizing the brown-eyed marine at his bedside as being James. The third year, the mental haze cleared, and the arduous and agonizing road to physical recovery began. By the fourth year, Shepard was too drained, emotionally, physically, mentally, to contemplate getting married. It had still been a struggle to force himself out of bed every morning. So, they’d waited until this fifth year, when Shepard felt more like himself, even if he did still suffer from a permanent limp and periodic memory loss. 

 

They’d chosen the anniversary of the war’s end in hopes that Shepard would remember at least one of those events having happened on this day, and because if he could remember one, it would help him remember the other. And the war’s end - though still a terrifying memory - had marked the beginning of this road to peacefulness, no matter how fraught with difficulty the journey had been. 

 

John kissed James again. There was less laughter and more desire wrapped up in it this time. James hated scotch and John hated tequila, but they both savored the flavor of it in the other man’s mouth. Toasts had been made to their health and happiness, and they were both now painfully aware that those two things weren’t necessarily tied together. Shepard had been unhealthy - more unhealthy than he’d ever been in his life - for the past five years, and yet they’d found a way to be happy. Because James could always make John smile, and John could always make James feel safe and loved. Some days, that was the best they could hope for, but they’d learned that it was often enough. 

 

The tide rose higher, water up to their knees, and their feet sank into the muddy sand, like they were being swallowed up by the earth, encapsulated in this perfect moment. Their lust rose higher as well the longer their lips stayed tangled together, and Shepard couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing than standing right here on this beach kissing his husband. 

 

The word bubbled in his chest, like the water at his feet, and if there had ever been a time in his life where he’d felt giddy, this was it. Shepard had never been a fatalist, nor an optimist - a pragmatist, a  _ realist _ , definitely. The occasions where he’d allowed himself to feel cautiously optimistic had been few and far between. But now, as he stood in the surf of the Pacific Ocean, arms wrapped securely around the man he loved, he could honestly say that he felt  _ hopeful  _ \- perhaps for the first time in his life - that their future would be brighter than the past had been. Looking backward was to wade through years of misery and heartache, but looking forward held the promise of salty kisses and backyard barbeques, of lazy mornings and naked evenings, of snuggling under the blankets on the couch and lying in the sun on the beach. Promises of good things and good moments and new memories made. 

 

They broke the kiss with smiles and happy sighs - contented and peaceful and  _ giddy _ and continued their trek toward the bungalow that James had purchased when it became apparent that Shepard would actually live. They’d only lived in the home for a few months, having visited it only a few times a year while Shepard had convalesced in a London hospital for years. All the memories made there so far had been happy ones, the way John had wanted it to be. He hadn’t wanted to taint the place with his painful struggle for survival, and so they’d waited. Lived in a London flat while James completed N7 training and became the third human Spectre, and used it as a vacation home during Shepard’s infrequent furloughs from his doctor’s care. The bungalow symbolized a new beginning, for Shepard and for the two of them together. 

 

His legs were sore, hip screaming when they reached home, but the lights inside were burning warmly, beckoning and welcoming. James eased him onto the couch and brought him a glass of water and his pain meds. John hated to take the pills, but hated the disappointment in James’ eyes when he didn’t even more. It would have been nice not to have to be drugged on their wedding night, but he knew he’d just make them both miserable if he didn’t take it. There was also the little pill box where James dutifully set up the cocktail of antidepressants and other medications necessary to keep the demons at bay. Shepard obligingly took those as well.

 

Done with that chore, James dimmed the lights and sat beside him on the couch, linking their hands once again. The contentment and peace John had been feeling all day washed over him, rolling like the water against the shore. “Good day, huh?” he murmured, already beginning to feel the numbing effects of the painkillers.

 

“Great day, Johnny-boy,” James murmured right back. “Couldn’t be happier.” 

 

John thought of their families - his own dead and gone for nearly thirty years now; James’ gone since just before the Reaper invasion. It would have been nice to share this day with them. He wondered what his parents would have thought of James, then decided that they would have adored him as much as John did. He had trouble remembering appointments and names and details these days, and he’d never had many memories of his parents even before his injuries, but somehow he sensed that they would be happy that he was happy. And he was oh-so-very happy. 

 

Their lips met once more, slow and lazy, and they let it build and crash and build again, like the swell of the water just outside their door. James’ large hand - rough with calluses and blisters - cupped Shepard’s jaw, thumb stroking through the permanent dusting of stubble. James’ lips moved to his other jaw, branding his skin with fire, and Shepard shifted as much as his bad hip would allow, wanting James closer and closer. 

 

“I don’t know if I-”

 

The words were stopped by James’ mouth on his again. “We’ve got our whole lives, Loco,” he murmured against John’s lips. The thing was, John felt uncommonly greedy at the moment. He wasn’t interested in thinking about the future; he was interested in thinking about his wedding night and how he was going to force his body to comply with his wishes come hell or high water. 

 

Shepard twisted again, grunting in pain when his hip caught, then cursing when James pulled away with a worried crease between his brows. “I’m fine,” he soothed, pulling his husband back toward him, but James sidestepped, pressing his face to John’s neck instead and sucking at the tender skin there. Shepard moaned, his dashed hopes rising once more. 

 

“Relax, Loco… I’ve got you.” 

 

James was a phenomenal kisser, John thought. It wasn’t as if some part of him hadn’t known this all along, but it was the first time he’d had the actual thought. He chuckled at himself, and James pulled away, a quizzical smile on his face, like he’d missed the joke. Shepard brought him back, fingers of one hand around his neck and the other sliding under his shirt. He voiced his thought, and James gave him a snort and an eye roll. Made some comment about Shepard’s own prowess, and then they were both laughing too much for the kisses to be either good or effective. Everything was messy and giggly, and overwhelmingly perfect. 

 

“I love you,” John said, blue eyes twinkling merrily. 

 

“I love you, too.” James’ expression mirrored his own. 

 

James was hard - his muscles, his resolve, his dick - and John wanted every piece of him. The medicine was coursing through him now, easing the pain, making everything gauzy and ethereal.  _ Dream-like. _ He felt James’ fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on his skin and only afterwards realized his shirt had been unbuttoned. He grinned through the medication and the churning affection he felt for James, and he was pretty sure Jimmy returned his smile. 

 

“You’re not going to remember a damn bit of this tomorrow are you?” James laughed, slipping onto his knees on the floor. 

 

“Probably not,” Shepard agreed with a laugh of his own. “Want you, though.” 

 

“You’ve got me, Johnny-boy,” James whispered. “Always.”

 

John’s head dropped onto the back of the couch, and James gripped his hips gently and shifted them down to the edge of the cushion. Lava trickled down his chest - James’ lips and tongue, a trail of fire. Fingers fumbled with his fly, then a warm breath of air ghosted over his cock. He tangled his fingers into James’ short hair, moaning as soft lips encased the head. “Jimmy,” he breathed. His fingers feathered through his husband’s hair as James sucked him, languid and deep, pushing him steadily toward that razor’s edge. 

 

Opening his eyes, he saw James’ hand working between his own legs, opening himself up as his lips continued up and down John’s length. A fragment of a memory flashed through his mind:  _ John on his knees in the shower, working himself open; James’ cock heavy on his tongue. _ He groaned and tugged at James’ hair as the memory faded into the ether of his forgetfulness and growing need. “Come ride me,” he pleaded. 

 

“Sure your hip can take it?” James paused his task to ask. His hands were still busy, though - three fingers moving in and out of his ass, the other hand slipping up and down John’s cock.

 

“Just… slow, Jimmy… just go slow.” His mouth felt lined with cotton, words not wanting to stick together. They came out sounding muffled, dragged from his throat with effort. James chuckled again, then climbed onto the couch, straddling Shepard’s thighs. James was naked, though Shepard didn’t remember him becoming that way. His own pants were wrapped around his ankles, shirt unbuttoned and spread open wide, though John didn’t remember that either. 

 

“You know I’m never gonna let you live this down, right?” James asked with a smirk. “Doped up on our wedding night.”

 

“Fuck you, Jimmy,” John slurred, hips bucking in anticipation. He moaned when James’ lube-slick hand gripped him and stroked once. “Better yet, fuck me.” 

 

“Aye, sir,” James whispered against his ear as he sank down onto Shepard’s hardened length. There was a moment, a pause, as their bodies adjusted to one another where everything around them became still and silent. Their heavy breaths were muted, heartbeats dulled. Even the sounds of the waves outside seemed less like their usual thunderous crash and more like the slow trickle of a brook or stream. James was seated fully on his hips, John’s cock buried deep, yet it seemed weightless. Shepard could only feel the heat where their bodies were joined and the feverish pleasure that raced through his veins. 

 

“Jimmy,” he broke the silence as James began to move his hips in slow, circular motions. The name was pulled from his lips, slow and stretching, like taffy. His hands floated slowly over James’ body, drinking in the smooth, blistering skin, before coming to rest on his hips to lazily guide the man’s movements. 

 

James rocked and circled, dick trapped between their bellies, breath hot on Shepard’s neck. With one hand he braced himself on the back of the couch; with the other, he tweaked John’s nipples. Shepard couldn’t think; he could only feel, but every feeling was obscured, blunted, dreamy. He chased blindly after James’ lips when they strayed close to his mouth, thumbs rubbing ellipses against the younger man’s hips. He breathed James in, solid and grounding, tethering him to reality and this moment. “Love you,” he mumbled, lips still pressed to his husband’s. 

 

“Johnny,” James all but whimpered, forehead pressed against Shepard’s. “John,” he said more clearly. “If you don’t remember anything else about tonight, remember this… That I love you… that I’ve always loved you.” His hand slid down John’s chest, memorizing scarred skin and muscles less defined than they had been the very first time they’d done this. 

 

Shepard groaned, hands gliding back to grip James’ ass, to nudge him just a bit faster. It was rather heartbreaking, he thought, that James had to deal with this frustrating side-effect of Shepard’s injuries and medication. Memory was a thing he’d always taken for granted until his didn’t function properly anymore. He committed himself to absorbing every detail of this moment, clinging to desperate hope that his mind wouldn’t betray him, would allow him to remember. 

 

He pulled James closer, bodies melded into one, James’ dick sliding through the sweat on their bellies. He pressed his mouth to James’ throat and worried a purple bruise there to remind him in the morning. He touched, tasted, and listened, pulling the moment into himself and gripping with all his might. 

 

James moved faster, hips rolling against John’s, and Shepard held tighter, aiding his movements with still-powerful arms. Harried breaths and fervent noises pushed past their lips. James gasped Shepard’s name, face buried in the crook of his neck. John reached between them, stroking him through his climax, and following him quickly over the edge. 

 

John was boneless, utterly spent. He couldn’t feel a thing other than the pounding of his heart and the foam in his skull where his brain used to be. Euphoric, dazed, trippy, in love. James was laughing at him again, littering his face and neck with dazzling kisses, and John wanted to crawl inside that laugh and live forever. 

 

“Think you could handle a shower?” 

 

“Uh-uh.” 

 

More laughter, more fleeting kisses. John’s muscles began to tremble from supporting James’ weight, and James, keenly in tune with Shepard’s every need since the war’s end, immediately shifted off of him. John missed his warmth profoundly, shivering with the sudden cold he felt. His husband helped him the rest of the way out of his clothes, then led him to the bathroom and into the steaming shower. Once upon a time, John Shepard had been renowned for his stamina - not strictly for its applications in the bedroom, either - but these days, he tired much more easily, and this had been a long, adventurous day. James held him tight against his body, rocking and soothing as if John were a child. Shepard found it funny, but didn’t have the energy to laugh anymore. 

 

When he’d imagined the war’s end and the life he’d wanted with James Vega, this wasn’t what he’d pictured at all. He knew he was lucky to be alive, but had almost hoped to be somewhat more whole than what he was right now. James didn’t seem to mind, though. The man was always there, supporting John in everything from the most insignificant to the most imperative, everything from the physical to the psychological. Shepard was grateful in a way that was difficult to put into words. 

 

The shower warmed him even as it relaxed his muscles and clouded his mind. He was dimly aware of James washing him, then somehow, he was curled underneath the covers in bed, the solid weight of his husband tucked up behind and against him. Shepard slept, and while he slept, he dreamed. He dreamed of rolling tides, and James’ laugh. Of his mother’s golden curls, and of Anderson’s immense pride in him. He dreamed of his friends - his family - and of making love to James on their wedding night. 

 

And in the morning, he remembered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it. The end of the line for these guys. I've really enjoyed writing this pair, and I'm going to miss them! Thanks to everyone who has read, left comments and kudos. It really means a lot to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Enormous love and gratitude to my beta, [sparkly_butthole](http://mshenkoaddiction.tumblr.com)! Without your support and encouragement, I don't think this sequel would have ever happened. And as always, you helped make this a better story than it was originally. Huge {{hugs}} my darling!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Find me on Tumblr: [ellebeedarling](http://ellebeedarling.tumblr.com)
> 
> Much love,  
> Elle


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